


The tale of the Evergreen Witch

by The scribe (TheGreenHuntress109)



Series: Stardust and Evergreen [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22347901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenHuntress109/pseuds/The%20scribe
Summary: Jaskier was lucky to have gotten away with his life, but with how heavily the knife wound was bleeding, maybe not.Oh how tragic a tale, of Jaskier the bard dying by the hand of a brute. Or the bandits. Or whatever had been silently stalking him since the sun dipped low and cast the sky aflame with oranges and reds. His already tragic end becoming perhaps even more tragic, in his mind, because of the fact there was no one around to write the end of his tragic tale. How very...Tragic.Here we see the tragic tale of Jaskier and the Evergreen witch, a tale of friendship and love. An adventure where a bard learns his true strength and a witch discovers her place in a world that would rather she not be in it.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Character(s)
Series: Stardust and Evergreen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608688
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

Jaskier stumbled over uneven ground, littered as it was with roots intent on tripping him up; while he kept a hand firmly pressed to the blood soaked shoulder of his left arm.  
Gods above!  
Only separated from Geralt for a few hours and already he’d been accosted by bandits, as if the shattering of his heart had not been enough, they had also shattered his lute.  
Against his head no less.  
And then stabbed him.  
The cheek of it!

Jaskier was lucky to have gotten away with his life, but with how heavily the knife wound was bleeding, maybe not.

Oh how tragic a tale, of Jaskier the bard dying by the hand of a brute. Or the bandits. Or whatever had been silently stalking him since the sun dipped low and cast the sky aflame with oranges and reds. His already tragic end becoming perhaps even more tragic, in his mind, because of the fact there was no one around to write the end of his tragic tale. How very...Tragic.

Jaskier stumbled and when he looked back up into the darkening forest, he found the bleach white skull staring back at him. Jaskier had seen these monsters before, geralt had explained they were called Leshy’s and… honestly he hadn’t listened after that, too busy trying to find a good rhyme with Leshy and settled on fleshy. Now he wished he had listened a little more when Gerlat did finally give him information. Though that was only after Jaskier had annoyed him enough to correct the bard.  
But that wasn’t the point. The point, right that second, was that he was going to die. And it was not going to be pretty and it would probably hurt considerably more than dying of blood loss.

In short.  
Fuck.

The leshy seemed to realise Jaskier was wounded as it silently drew slowly nearer. Jaskier scrambled backwards and tripped again on another root, but-  
Jaskier was pretty sure that root hadn’t been there when he panickedly glanced back. He tried to move but the bright sleeve of his doublet seemed caught by clawed hands, yet when he looked a root had snagged on it and... Was it moving?  
Yes, oh gods, it was definitely moving.  
Jaskier yelped and mournfully ripped his sleeve from the root, a tear shocked the silent wood and the creature as it stopped moving. Head tipped to its left it moved in a blink.

Fire.  
A wall of flames separated Jaskier from the Leshy. Bold wisps of it jumped onto the creature which caused it to scream as the tiny flames ate away at it like moths to cloths. Slowly the wall destroyed the roots that tried to grasp at Jaskier. A sword, small and agile, slipped through the creatures chest and it too set aflame and consumed the beast entirely. It writhed and tried to put out the flames but nothing could quench them. Jaskier watched, enraptured and sickened as the Leshy died. Turned to dust in the wind by something man had used for comfort in their home.  
A wild beast defeated by the domestic flame.  
No. That wasn’t quite right. Fire could be equally beastly and hungry.

“Arm.”  
Jaskier blinked at the voice, realising it belonged to the girl holding a silver sword towards him. No not a girl, a woman. She frowned down at him and he could just about make out the dark green eyes that blazed with the ethereal might of the forest itself. The woman might have been a literal goddess for all Jaskier could tell from her strong stance and even stronger intensity.  
“I said arm.” The beauty told him firmly again and Jaskier, struckdumb from the attack and the woman now infront of him, slowly offered it to her. She tucked the longer side of her short hair behind her ear before she took his arm and slowly she touched the blade against his arm. What a strange hairstyle. Was all he could think for a few seconds as he gazed at the black hair, cut short under her right ear and slowly getting longer around her head until the left side strands tickled the edge of her jaw. An odd haircut for an odd woman.  
“Your good.” she said with a breath of relief. Soon Jaskier found himself hauled to his feet and the frown on the woman's face had melted into a friendly smile. Jaskier found himself smiling as well as he tried to bow with a flourish, but the wobble in his step told him that was not an option now, and instead bowed his head slightly.  
“My name is Jaskier and I believe I owe you my life.” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.  
She laughed at him and pulled her hand back to secure the short sword to her him where another sat on the opposite side. It was strange that she wore weapons when she was obviously a mage or sorceress, jaskier supposed he hadn’t tried to befriend any other magic users so he couldn’t be confident they didn’t use swords.

She glanced back at him almost shyly, “I’m Venitra, call me Ven though.” Ven pulled the hair behind her ear to once again shield her face when Jaskier smiled wider at her. Ven had moments ago been a warrior goddess in human form, yet a kiss to the hand had her hiding away. Interesting. 

“Well Ven-” Jaskier never finished the sentence before he saw the ground rushing to meet him and darkness take him.

* * *

“Ma, he’s good. He saw me use my magic and didn’t hate me.”  
Jaskier groaned at the voice that woke him, but it seemed they must have been too far away to hear it. How rude to wake him when his body felt like a troll had given him a massage and had bashed him in the head while it was at it.  
He tried to bring both arm to cradle his growing migraine. One hand uncoordinatedly hit himself in the head. Fuck. Did he lose his arm? How was he to entertain kings and Queens? How would he make a living? More importantly, how was he to woo his next lover?  
Jaskier took a mournful glance down. Oh. He hadn’t lost his arm at all.  
It had been wrapped snugly against his clothed chest the whole time, a bandage looped around his shoulder and a splint around his wrist. He tried an experimental tug with the bound arm.  
Shit that hurt! Pain lanced up his arm from his wrist, like someone had poured hot water on his arm from under the skin. The breath left his lungs in a painful huff. Well he wouldn’t be playing his lute for a while, and oh his poor lute. Such beauty so cruelly smashed by those who didn’t know what wonders she could sing. Fare thee well sweet lady of melody.

The door opened in a flash and a stern looking woman walked in followed by Ven. They seemed to be in some sort of argument if the challenging look they both shared and angry arua was anything to go by. “Evergreen, you know why we can’t -” The taller woman with fire red hair and scars that twisted up her jaw to just under her left eye, stopped suddenly when her eyes landed on Jaskier. All of a sudden he was aware how a mouse felt in the clutches of an owl, why it does not always flee when eyes like steel and greying skies fixed upon him with such intensity he thought he would combust. She spares a quick glance at Ven before she’s speaking again, “Good, you’re up. There’s a pack filled with food and drink beside your own, I would appreciate it if you leave immediately.” Ven opened her mouth to argue, but the woman silenced her with a hand. She leaned forward, towering over Jaskier who had shrunk from her gaze, “And tell no one of us, bard.” She hissed the word bard as if it were a slur and Jaskier felt the sting it was intended to cause, but he had spent years trailing after Geralt and tried his most charming smile.

“Dear lady, I am humbly grateful for your kindness.” He tried to stand but a sharp pain in his ankle almost had him once more on the floor. Ven stepped in to catch him and surprisingly strong arms lowered him to the bed.  
“Ma, he can’t leave he’s injured. We can’t just shove him out there with a broken wrist, stab wound and a twisted ankle.” In that moment Jaskier saw her use the full power of her bright green eyes, like a fawns they widened and saddened with equal vigour, “He’d die, we can’t let that happen.” She lowered her head and Jaskier swore he saw the beginnings of tears.  
The woman, or Ma as Ven called her, looked like someone who knew they had lost but valiantly tried anyway, “Evergreen…” She warned but Ven sniffled and Ma looked to Jaskier, who then tried to make his eyes as wide and sad as Ven did.  
Ma gave a sigh, and damn Ven was good, as she pressed a hand to her forehead, “Fine, he stays here until he’s well, then,” She pointed at Ven who had suddenly gone dry eyed with her bright smile, “He leaves and he is your responsibility.”  
Jaskier felt like a new pet.  
Well he’d been treated worse.

Ven hugged Ma and the older woman rolled her eyes, “Dinner will be ready soon, check his wound before you both come to dinner.” Ma said then left to presumably cook dinner.  
Jaskier’s stomach growled at the thought of warm food. Ven’s hand disappeared into her wool spun tunic and pulled out some red berries, “Here to tide you over.”  
Jaskier took them gratefully and Ven went about getting things to check his wound.  
“Where were you headed?” She asked as she set down a bowl full of water, where she had gotten it from he had no idea but it was there. With a flick of her wrist a flame danced in her palm to heat the bowl, Jaskier found his eyes transfixed on the small display of magic. Ven shifted and the flame was hidden by her body, her eyes stared intently at the bowl.  
“Came back from an epic adventure, full of death, tragedy and love lost.” He said with as much oomf as he could manage, it made her smile though so he counted it as a win for him.  
“Did the white wolf happen to be in this tale?” She was teasing, light. But a dark heaviness settled over him as Geralt's words came back to him.  
Maybe fate had tried to fulfill his wish by killing the bard through bandits. Would Geralt even care if Jaskier had been killed? Or would he have carried on without an ounce of sadness, after all they were and had never been friends, apparently.

Ven sat back from her task and laid a hand over his, “I’m sorry, I won’t pry.” He was grateful for that. Ven had shown her more kindness than he had ever gotten from Geralt or anyone for that matter, not unless they wanted something from him and wasn’t that just sad. People only wanted to know his if it was for a quick fuck or punching.  
Ven pulled away and slowly pulled away the bandage from his shoulder, gently pulled his arm from the sling they had made to fasten his arm to him. The blood had been cleaned and someone had stitched him up while he slept, but a dribble of blood still trailed down from the stitches. She wiped at the wound, careful not to pull too much and undo the thing keeping him together.  
It struck him then, as he munched on berries and watched the small frown of concentration on Ven’s face, that he had not told her that he travelled with the white wolf. He had not mentioned Geralt at all, in fact she had been the one to bring him up. Not many actually remembered what he looked like. Geralt yes, him not so much. It was easier to remember that the witcher was the one with white hair and golden eyes, most only knew who he was when he was with Geralt despite his fame and that was only because of his lute. Everyone knew that a bard following the butcher was Jaskier.  
“I don’t recall telling you I travelled with the white wolf.” He raised an eyebrow at her, to which she shrugged and began rubbing a salve into his skin.  
“You passed through the village near here. I saw you there, love the fishmonger's daughter song.” She smirked down at the pot of salve in her hands, “Just don’t tell Ma. I’m not supposed to go into the village.”

Jaskier tried to remember ever seeing her before but...well he’d been all over so the chance of remembering her specific face was slim.  
“Why aren’t you allowed? Surely you’re old enough to venture out on your own.” To Jaskier she seemed almost the same age as him. Certainly old enough to have started her own family by now, let alone be allowed out to the Village. Yet even he knew the world was a dangerous place, even more so for a lone woman. Perhaps that’s why her Mother worried.  
Ven took a breath and lay the pot down on the small table where the bowl of water sat.  
Jaskier took a look at the almost sad smile she directed at her hands.  
“Not many are as tolerant as you when it comes to those with magic.” She tilted her head as she looked at him, “The village children call us witches and the parents curse us as we walk by.” her voice rose in anger and Jaskier once again saw the warrior goddess that had saved him in the forest as her hands gesture wildly and with such angry conviction that he found himself drawn to her, “They don’t understand, so they try to destroy whatever scares them. They burn good people for curses that never existed and plagues that come from their poor hygiene. Ma got her scar from them.” Ven pointed to the left of her eyes, where Ma’s skin scarred up from her jaw, “Burned for being too pretty and too knowledgeable. Punished for helping, punished for not bowing down to those with power.”  
Ven looked to Jaskier when a pot full of dead flowers shattered in a shower of pottery.

She withdrew, arms wrapped around herself, “I’m sorry.” She whispered and silently went back to wrapping his shoulder. When she was done she stepped away as if she would hurt Jaskier should she touch him again.  
Ven certainly had an issue with the villagers, but from what she had said, he couldn’t blame her. People could be shit. He knew that. He’d been one of them, taking what he wanted from women when he knew it would destroy their marriages.  
“It’s ok. I understand. People are shit.” He said.  
Ven giggled and nodded, “Yeah, people are shit.”

It was silent for a while until she offered her hand tentatively, “Come on, Ma should be done and she’d want to talk to you about chores.”  
Jaskier tried not to wrinkle his nose at chores. Logically it was fair, he was taking up resources and he should contribute for that. But he was not one for such things. He would rather not do manual labour if he could, often bedding the wives to get out of it. For a second he considered doing so with Ven’s mother, but the conversation they had just had stopped him in his tracks. They’d both suffered enough, the least he could do was help out a bit.  
Jaskier smiled up at her and accepted the help, as he couldn’t very well hobble on his own with his ankle. “Well how can I resist if a pretty lady requests it.”  
Ven laughed and rolled her eyes at him, but he saw the light pinking of her cheeks.

Together they hobbled to the kitchen.


	2. Red sky

Dinner was nice. If you enjoyed being glared at by a red headed witch, while the only one on your side refused to look at you, seemingly embarrassed by her earlier outburst. Jaskier didn’t mind it though, having travelled with Geralt he was used to the glares and having someone express more than irritation was refreshing.   
Through the stilted conversation, Jaskier found that the two lived on a small farm big enough for the two of them and only dealt with the village if there was something they couldn’t make themselves. Ma, or Arlin, was not in fact Ven’s biological mother and Ven had no idea who her real parents were. Arlin had nothing more to add and seemed to want to change the subject. Which, ok very weird, but he wasn’t about to judge. They were feeding him and giving him somewhere to sleep, he knew when to pick his battles.   
Soon the conversation moved on to chores.   
They all agreed that there weren’t many chores he could do with his ankle. Arlin had given him a healing tea, but it would take at least a couple of days before he could use it. But he could dry dishes with one hand.

That was how he found himself sat at the small, wooden bench that more of a plank of wood balanced on two other planks of wood shoved in the dirt. A dry rag in his good hand as he awkwardly dried the dishes Ven passed him. They’d set up next to the well out front and Ven washed each dish in a wooden pail filled with cold water.    
“So.” Jaskier started, he laid a clean fork next to him on the bench as he glanced at Ven’s face. She hadn’t said much through dinner, which he guessed was to avoid spilling anymore feelings.   
But Jaskier was never able to keep quiet for long. Maybe he should, came a voice that sounded like Geralt and fuck. Jaskier was not about to change himself for others comfort. He was who he was and no one, not even a witcher, was going to change that.   
“Hmm?” Ven hummed light and questioning, nothing like Geralt. She even lifted her head to better listen to him, showing him that he held her attention.   
He was making a ballad about her when his wrist healed.   
“So, you’re a mage. Why do you bother with the swords?” It had bothered him since the forest. In his defense he had always thought mages where they’re own weapon, magic flowed through they’re veins or something equally poetic. Yet she wore swords at her hips more befitting a traveller than a mage, nothing like he’d seen of the sorceresses he knew. Then again he only really knew Yennefer, with her finery and cutting words. Ven was the opposite with her soft grey wool spun tunic, with a different coloured patch in the breast and baggy brown trousers, accompanied by well worn boots stained with mud. Her hair was strange as well, unlike Yen’s dark black hair, Ven’s seemed to look almost a dark navy under some lights. Or Jaskier had lost whatever marbles he had left.   
That last one was far more likely, after all he followed a witcher into danger for years.

Ven shifted, face twisted in a picture of discomfort but she stopped her washing to lightly tap at the blades of her twin blades, seeking comfort from them just being there.    
“I’m not very good with magic.” She admitted quietly, “Fire I’ve managed to get a handle on, but the more complex spell still elude me.”   
“Why’s that?” Jaskier felt he was pushing his luck, but Ven hadn’t told him to shut up yet so he would see how far he could get. She just shrugged.   
“Ma doesn’t like me practising, afraid the villagers that hunt nearby will see. I don’t want to draw attention to us again.” She went back to scrubbing the dishes with a ferocity that had Jaskier believing she would soon snap at him, but no words of anger had been thrown at him yet. Still he felt he should apologise, lest she began practising magic on him.   
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She hadn’t before and he shouldn’t have either.   
Ven snorted, “Don’t apologize for asking questions. Ma says that’s how we learn.” her eye caught him and the twisted expression changed into a kind smile, “It may be uncomfortable for me, but it’s nice to have someone care enough to ask.”    
Jaskier returned her smile with a gentle one of his own. It grew silent for far to long as Ven laughed and water arced through the air like a handful of crystals, blue and shimmering. Jaskier shrieked at the almost ice cold water got him full in the face, a wicked grin split across her face.   
“You! I’ll get you for that!” He laughed back at her and tried to reach for the pail, but she yanked it from his grip.   
Poking her tongue out she replied, “Go on then, if you can reach it.” They’d known each other for only a few hours and yet she was so open with her affection. Jaskier shook his head, he had to remember not everyone was closed off. Suddenly Jaskier looked towards the trees behind her and frowned, his eyes tracked movement and gasped. Ven turned to look, one hand on a sword and the other barely holding the pail of water.

“What-” was all she got out before Jaskier pulled the pail from her hand, the pain in his ankle at the movement all worthwhile when he dropped the pail and threw a handful of water at her face. She spluttered and pouted at him, “No fair, you cheated.”   
Jaskier laughed, one hand on his side from the intensity of it, “You cheated first, making fun of a cripple, you should be ashamed of yourself.” He teased and she blew a raspberry like a child, it only served to make him laugh more. Ven emptied the pail of water onto the grass and scooped the dried dishes into it before she sat down beside Jaskier, her head tilted to the sky.   
“Blue that glitters, crystal in his eyes.   
Like stardust chased by a sunrise.   
Bright and light and full of cheer,   
A delight to many an ear.” Ven intoned like a world weary traveller, sounding as if she were older than her actual years. Jaskier raised an eyebrow and Ven refused to meet his eye.   
“I haven’t heard tha one before.” He said and Ven ducked her head to stare at something across the way. “Is that one of your own?”   
Ven shrugged, “You inspired me.” she peeked at him, “I’ve only ever lived in two places. I don’t know what’s happening in the world and you came with funny songs and tales of adventure that sounded so… magical. I just… I want to leave one day and see something for myself.” Ven suddenly squinted in the distance, Jaskier looked in the direction she seemed to be concerned about and froze.

Now, Jaskier had seen his fair share of angry mobs, some brought on by Geralt and some brought on by himself.    
But mostly Geralt.   
Yet he had never seen this many people, as if the whole village and their cows had decided to join in the march, or this many pitchforks. Ven hurriedly stood and took his arm to hobble to the door all the while yelling for Arlin. By the time they had gotten to the door Arlin brushed past them, wind blew her hair about like a red flame, Jaskier could feel the power she eminated and the cold blank look she wore told him that whoever these people were shouldn’t fuck with her. Though Jaskier was a natural born coward he couldn’t help but stay rooted to the spot, Ven didn’t seem to be in any hurry to hide away either.

The leader of the very large group, a man who had the look of both a dolt and donkey fucker, stepped toward the house just in front of the well.   
“Witch, hand over the man you took from the woods and we may spare you.” He yelled, false confidence had him push his chest out like a chicken, or a cock. Which in Jaskier’s humble opinion, described him perfectly, an over confident cock. Ven shifted in front of Jaskier, a hand on a sword ready to defend if need be. Her face had changed from the open woman he had been splashing around in dirty water with, she had once again become the strong woman he had first seen. Jaskier glanced back to the scene at hand, when a sharp, unamused laugh cut through the air.   
It came from Arlin, who did not look at all in the laughing mood. The leader gulped and pointed towards where Jaskier hide behind Ven’s back, “Don’t worry, we’ll save you from these witch’s.” And now it made sense. They must have thought these woman had taken him for nefarious reasons, he opened his mouth to put an end to this whole ordeal.   
“I believe there has been a mistake.” Arlin cut in.   
“Silence witch!” He yelled. Arlin drew herself up, suddenly a wind picked up and the torches that had illuminated the crowd like a herald of death, died themselves. Jaskier hobbled towards them, sensing a fight about to break out, his hands up to placate the crowd. Ven made a distressed noise and was at his side before he toppled over, she caught him by his arm and steadied him. 

“Look I think there has been a misunderstanding, these wonderful women saved me.” Jaskier said and the man's face grew red.   
“They’ve bewitched him!” He yelled, about to lunge forward when a boy shot in front of him. He panted but refused to get out of the way. “Dren, move ya stupid boy.”   
Dren squared his shoulders as he caught his breath, “No, Da. I tried To tell ya, she saved im. Killed tha Lesh tha’s bin killin folk.” he pointed to Ven, who shrank back with a weary expression. The man grew redder when the crowd began lowering their weapons and murmurs of thanks rippled through them. It seemed the leader couldn’t do anything if his son was a witness to the very not nefarious goings on, and by the looks of his face he had used this as an excuse to finally get rid of the two women.   
“Thank you!” One shouted.   
“It killed my husband, bless you.” Another shouted.   
Arlin raised her hand and the praise ceased. Jaskier turned to grin at Ven, seems his power of persuasion worked for mages as well as witchers, but she had hidden her face behind the long side of her hair. 

  
“Now that this issue has been resolved, I would appreciate it if you all left my property.”   
A silence descended, but people slowly drained back to the village. Some shook Ven’s hand and thanked her again, but cast Arlin with a distrustful look. When even the leader left Arlin turned and swept passed Ven and Jaskier. “You could have been nicer.” Jaskier said. Arlin stopped and turned a glare on him. And yeah, maybe pissing off a mage that’s housing you isn’t a good idea, but Jaskier never claimed to be smart.   
“Nothing good can come of this. People will turn eventually, they always do.” She turned her eyes on Ven and they softened, “I hoped to protect you for a little longer.” Without explanation she stormed into the house.    
Ven sighed, “Thank you. Ma’s just… we’ve been through a lot, she’ll come round. But than you.” She squeezed his arm gently, “Come on, I’ll set up your bed.”    
With the help of Ven he managed to hobble to the room he had woken up in.


	3. The bard and the siren

Eight weeks had passed and Jaskier’s ankle had been deemed well enough to help with more chores that required one hand and working legs, but those were very few. The plus side to being able to walk without falling like a newborn foal, was that he could finally get a better look at the small farm the two mages lived on. Jaskier had seen his fair share of farms in his travels and this one was indeed small, its main house just a short walk to the well down the path from the door, a stable to the left with one grey mare named Nettle. Further behind the house was a garden filled with herbs and food, chickens clucked and pecked to the right of the house, while a lazy cow roamed the field behind the whole thing. They didn’t have much and through the week Jaskier had found more often than not their diet consisted of vegetables and rarely any meat. When a hen would grow too old to lay, as he had discovered the second day of his stay, they would cook the old bird and the bland stews would, very briefly, light up the taste buds with colour that vegetables just couldn’t for him.   
It was said chickens Jaskier found himself sat by, on an old stump Ven used for cutting wood and every few minutes yelling that she had missed a spot as she cleaned the coop out.   
  


“You could help.” She lifted an eyebrow at him, white undershirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows and short black hair adorned with hay he had thrown at her earlier. She looked like every other farmers daughter he had ever bedded, yet he knew that she had more than a pretty face in her favour.   
Jaskier grinned and lay his good hand over his heart, “But my dear, Evergreen,” he said shocked as if the thought was so terrible and she was a terrible person for thinking he should help, let alone verbalise it, “I am but a cripple, broken and injured. I couldn’t possibly do as you say.” He leant back, the back of his hand on his forehead like a fainting maiden as he fake fainted. Ven snorted as she went back to work and muttered about him being a flower, wilting at the first sign of work. He turned his eyes to the midday sky, winter was on the horizon and Jaskier didn’t fancy his chances on the stone floor. Though as the nights got colder he had found himself in Ven bed, the only time since his sisters that he lay in a woman's bed with the intention of sleeping.

Against the trees a person meandered up the path leading to the farm. As they grew closer Jaskier could see it was a young woman, probably entering her twenties, with dirty blond hair and caring a basket full of food.   
“You have a visitor.” He said. Ven wiped sweat from her forehead and threw the dirty gloves she had worn at Jaskier feet. Jaskier wrinkled his nose and moved his feet further away from them as Ven left the coop and took a swig from the water-skin beside Jaskier.   
“Who’s that?” She asked as if Jaskier knew everyone in the village. The only people he knew around these parts was Ven and her mother. Jaskier opened his mouth to say as much but the woman had reached them, red faced and trembling.   
Jaskier gave her a charming smile, or what he thought was a charming smile but she paid no heed, instead her wide brown eyes were stuck on Ven.    
“Sorry, Miss witch.” she hesitated and licked her lips and swallowed when Ven threw a cupped hand full of water at her face. Jaskier wasn’t fooled by Ven’s seemingly unfazed demeanor, she still stayed far back from the girl and closer to where her swords lay propped against the side of the coop.   
“Ven.” The woman gave a confused noise at Ven’s sudden word, “My name is Ven.” Ven told her and Jaskier laughed at how awkward this whole ordeal was, but Ven slyly poked him in the shoulder to shut him up. The girl just nodded at her, “Is it true you killed the Leshy?” She asked instead.   
Ven nodded, “What of it?” She asked casually but Jaskier had seen her tense up.   
“It’s just, there's this monster by the lake just north of the village. Boys ave been going missing and the men won't fish there anymore.” The woman swallowed again and gently placed the basket in front of her, she stepped away and gestured to it, “We don’t have much, but we offer this as payment.” She gestured again to the basket, filled with parcels of dripping meat. Jaskier’s deprived taste buds demanded he sample these delicate, which were probably cuts the village didn’t want but were delicacies to him. 

Jaskier popped up from his seat on the stump and hooked his arm through the baskets handle, “Of course we’ll help you, Won’t we Evergreen?” He threw a grin at her open mouthed expression.    
Ven spluttered until she eventually strung some words together, “I uh, yeah. Sure we will.” The woman burst into tears and hurled herself at the astonished mage, who caught her and sent a panicked look to Jaskier. Jaskier mimed hugging the woman back and she reluctantly returned the hug, slowly rubbing cautious circles in the woman's back to soothe her.    
She finally pulled away, “I will come get you at daybreak tomorrow and take you there.” she took Ven’s hand and squeezed it between her own, “Thank you, Miss Evergreen.” Then she was off again, no doubt to tell the others that ‘miss Evergreen’ was going to sort their little problem out.   
“OW!” Jaskier yelled dramatically when Ven smacked his good shoulder, face murderous. It hadn't really hurt that much, compared to hard she could hit and he knew how hard she could hit from watching her chopp wood for the fire. “What was that for?” he whined after her as she stomped by. He trailed behind her like a lost puppy wondering what he had done to offend her. It felt uncomfortably familiar.   
“I’m not a witcher.” She said as she stopped and turned to look at him. Anger had left her and something sad had taken its place, Jaskier didn’t understand why until she muttered, “I’m something more human.” It was soft and unsure as if she didn’t know if that were entirely true. She gently took the basket from him, sombre and quiet. Jaskier didn’t like it. Didn’t like how small she made herself, or how she couldn’t meet his eye.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”   
“It’s fine.” She cut him off, but her gaze still didn’t meet his, “let's get this inside and I’ll cook you something. Ma should be back from gathering herbs soon.” Her eyes grew wide before she gave a groan, “She’s not going to like this.”

And indeed she didn’t.    
“Absolutely not!” Arlin yelled, face just as red as her hair. It wasn't yet daybreak, darkness clung to the corners of the farms house even with the many candles lit. They had tried to sneak out early to avoid this, but Arlin was far more in tune with her daughter and had known something was up.She whirled around to face Jaskier who had taken a mouthful of pork roast when her angry eyes fell on him, “This is your fault. I knew you would start it, I knew you would do this. But I let myself believe it couldn’t be… that I could protect her from it, from you.” Jaskier shrunk in the face of her rage, not understanding a word of her nonsense. He did, however, understand when the mage walked towards him around the table, murder in her eyes. He yelped, but Ven intercepted her with hands held up, “Ma, it’s not his fault.” A lie, “I accepted this.” Another lie, “Please, they need help. Just let me help them, then everything will go back to the way it was.”   
Arlin cupped her daughters face and lent their foreheads together. Jaskier felt like he should go, but wasn’t sure where too, this moment was not meant for him.   
“I tried.” Arlin murmured, “I tried so hard to protect you from this. From what will happen.”   
Ven nodded, brows knitted in confusion but she played along, “I know. I know and I love you for it, but I need to grow up some time.”   
Arlin nodded and pressed a kiss to her child’s head, “I know.” She whispered and Jaskier could hear the heartbreak in it.   
  


Arlin saw them off after she had deemed Jaskier’s wrist healed enough, but warned him against anything too strenuous. Guilt roiled in his gut at the look of pure devastation on the woman’s face as they followed the woman towards the lake. Perhaps he had been too hasty accepting for her. He had been so used to travelling with Geralt that he forgot not everyone could go up against monsters and live, what if he just sent her to her death?    
He insisted on tagging along, but what could he do against monsters? Geralt had always saved him, he’d never saved anyone before.   
The woman stopped, “At the end of this path you’ll find it. I’m sorry, but I can’t carry on.” She pressed a kiss to Ven’s cheek, “Luck to you, good lady Evergreen.” and skipped back to the village.    
  


“Well you have an admirer.” Jaskier teased. Ven just gave him a bewildered look, “Come now, surely you’ve been kissed by a lovely lass or lad.”   
“No. But whatever, here.” She pressed a small knife into his hand with pink cheeks, “If anything goes wrong, run.” Her eyes bore into his own, burning the instruction into his very being. But he could never abandon her when she was the reason he still breathed.    
He nodded.   
He lied.   
He would not run.

Slowly they crept towards the lake, but all they found was a woman bathing her long brown hair in the water. Her lower half hidden in the water he almost believed her to be a normal person, but he had seen too many monsters in his life to be fooled. Apparently Ven wasn’t fooled either as she didn’t put away her weapons.   
“It’s rude to stare.” The siren said, voice melodic and friendly. “Wouldn’t you like to join me?” She turned and Jaskier could feel a pull, as if she held a string attached to him and would yank on it ever so gently. Toying with him, not yet hitting him with the full affect.   
Ven muttered something and did something complicated with her hand, the siren turned hateful eyes on her, but Jaskier had been ripped from her spell.   
“Witch!” It screamed and launched into the air. Ven shoved Jaskier down as the siren tried to swipe at the both of them.   
Ven rolled away. The siren swooped back, arms outstretched scratch and tear, caught Ven’s arm and cackled as it prepared to swipe again. Ven spat a curse just at a ball of fire shot from her hand. The siren ducked.    
The first fireball missed.   
As did the second.   
But when Ven rapidly shot another fireball, smaller than the others, it caught the creature in a leathery wing.

There was a splash and the siren popped up from the depths of the lake. Blood dirtied the water, spreading like a dark stain across the sparkling blue like a disease.   
“Come get me now, Witch. The water's fine.” It laughed cruelly and threw a stone at Ven from the shore. Ven flipped it off, but that only made it laugh louder. She went to help Jaskier up from where he had stayed when Ven pushed him down, “What are you going to do?” He asked, unsure how they could kill the thing without wading into its territory.   
“We.” She said as she shoved one of her swords into his hand while taking the small knife she had given him.   
“We?” jaskier’s voice hit an octave higher than he intended, Ven just hummed, “What can I so?”   
Ven grinned at him, “You’re a bard, sing. Distract her.” He gave her a disbelieving look. He wasn’t brave, he never fought monsters. What if it attacked him? Ven seemed to sense his distress, “You’ll be fine, just stay away from the water and try not to get pulled in by her spell. I dispelled it before, but she might try it again. Watch out though, been awhile since I last threw a knife.” she smiled at him, eyes alight with something… something. He may be a poet and a winner of hearts but there were no words for what he saw in her eyes, her smile so soft and inviting. 

“Aww not playing anymore? Such a shame.” The siren shouted, it splashed about like a child in summer, floating on her back and singing a song he recognised. Ven raised her eyebrows to push him on and Jaskier, through his sheer stupidity or his need to be in at least one dangerous situation every few weeks. (Only last week he almost had his insides painting Ven’s old clothes red, when a drowner had popped out of the well. Ven still couldn't explain how that happened.) he began singing to a siren.   
Oh yes, the ballad wrote itself, the Bard and the siren.    
Such a wonderful story, of how he died.

“Sailor, sailor bring thee to me   
This song for you, a melody.   
Sailor, sailor salt sweetened kiss   
Join me down here in eternal bliss.”

The siren seemed far more entertained with the bard than Ven, it’s eyes never left the bard as they continued their strange duet. Voices melding and complementing in ways no one else ever had. Jaskier tried, he really did. It was very valiant actually, when he later looked back on it with clearer eyes. How he had stepped closer when the sirens eyes drifted to Ven and recaptured her attention, his foot dipped into the water and the pull was back.    
He faintly heard Vens panicked yell of his name before the siren had her claws around his shoulders, still singing sweetly to him. She smiled and the sharpened teeth of something far from human, though maintained human aspects that screamed danger in some small part of his brain. Ven had shouted something other than his name and Jaskier was free to struggle and scream, but the siren had him held strong. Water blurred his vision and stung his nose as it tried to drown him first.

For thousandth and, as far as he knew, last time he thought about how tragic this all was. The last thing he would see would be the glassy manic look in the sirens eyes as it took him to his watery death.    
And yet.   
As he stared up, black crowded the edges of his vision, the manic look of the siren faded to horror and then…

Arm dragged Jaskier to the shore, where he coughed up the whole fucking lake, and sat him up. “Fuck, Jas! You ok, can you breath.”   
Jaskier spluttered but held up a weak thumbs up. Behind Ven’s wild eyes he could see the knife she gave him stuck out from the sirens neck.   
“Nice throw.”   
Ven looked at the dead siren and looked back at him, “I was aiming for the head.”   
Wonderful. Great. So he could have been stabbed...again. But it was better than being dead, he supposed. She hadn’t killed him and it still killed the siren so, win-win?   
Ven patted his back, “Come of, lets go.”

Yeah, the further from that lake they got the better he’d feel.


	4. My promise to keep

Jaskier huffed at a jab he barely parried. “Can we stop now.” and no, no matter what Ven said he did not whine.   
He totally whined.  
And why shouldn’t he, when it had been a year since he first came to the farm and many months since Ven insisted he train on how to use a sword. Apparently he wouldn’t be able to last a day without Ven saving him and well….she had a point. So everyday for the past year ,give or take eight weeks, they had been practising. Jaskier wasn’t exactly a natural, having stated his talents lay in foreplay not swordplay, but Ven wouldn’t have it. At least he had improved.

Ven lazily swung at him and Jaskier parried, instinctively he twirled behind her and found the perfect opportunity to kick her square in the back. 

Shit. 

He hadn’t meant to do that, but their exercises had been ingrained into him and they involved these types of evasion.   
Ven rolled over and started grinning at him, chest heaving, “Now we can stop.”   
Jaskier offered his hand to her, momentarily forgetting who she was. A spark of mischief glinted in her eye, as soon as she grasped his wrist he knew he was done for. She yanked so hard Jaskier lost his grip on the short sword still in his hand, a good thing too because he fell right on top of her. One of his wrists in her hand, the other beside her head and his knees bracketing her. A position he had found himself in many a time, yet there had never been this much playful energy that hadn’t been tinged with lust.   
It was new, but...nice. It was nice having a friend that he could just be with, who never told him to shut up when he sang or expected the Jaskier he had perfected as his persona. Sure he was loud and a bit much at times, but it always masked his true self.

Ven had called him a flower before, jokingly and with affection in every word, but she was right. He was a flower, radiant and just a little bit delicate in the feeling department. Where as She was a strong, like an evergreen tree. Or something. God’s he was losing his silver tongue, where was his ballads of raven hair against snow white skin? Where were his lyrics about… fucking apple green eyes? Well they weren’t apple green,they were darker.   
“I still win.” Ven smirked at up at him. Inches apart he could make out the flecks of earthy brown around her irises, the way her eyes smiled with her mouth as genuine joy beamed up at him. And no, the shade was not apple green but more of a forest green that held so much empathy and care. Eyes only he could see the true depth of. The pain of her past echoed through them as it did in her actions. Her words softer and kinder than people had been to her because she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end. Even when she said something that hurt, she always apologised and tried to do better by him.

  
“You cheated.” He hadn’t meant it to come out as soft and breathy as it had, but it did. Ven pressed her lips together and frowned at him, like he puzzled her in some way. Jaskier’s head was losing its battle with gravity or perhaps it was Ven’s gravity, because their faces had gotten much closer.   
“You beat me.” She mock pouted.   
So close.    
So close.   
“Yep.” Jaskier’s eyes fluttered, they were so close. He could feel the breath in her chest. But he didn’t close the distance.   
Ven was his friend, not some girl he met in the inn. He’d rather keep her friendship than ruin it with all that and besides, she couldn’t possibly feel the same.   
He rolled off her, shocked at how easy it was to break from her grip, and sat on the ground beside her. Never had Jaskier been as silent as he was then, with Ven giving him that puzzled look again.

“Ven!” Danica lent on the falling apart fence that kept the cow safely away from predators, the same fence Jaskier had been meaning to help Ven fix. The same fence neither of them wanted to fix. Danica still looked as bright and eager as she did when she lead them to the lake all those many months ago.  
Then Danica held a basket of meats and a little bit of coin wrapped around the handle, Jaskier’s doing, up for them to see like an offering. Ven wasn’t all that good with people, so he had taken it upon himself to haggle, they get a little meat each time and whatever coin could be spared in exchange for her services. It wasn’t exactly Witcher money but then again that wasn’t always much, and Jaskier had begun performing at the local inn. Julka, the owner of the inn, had even been paying him extra if he wiped down the tables for her. Ven had taken a couple monster related jobs, nothing big, but if it was a small monster or a cluster of drowners then the village usually sent Danica for Ven.

Ven nodded at Danica, but wouldn’t meet her eye as Danica clambered over the fence. Ven kept Jaskier between her and the overly affectionate woman when they both pulled themselves to their feet, one hand on his elbow like she was caught between pulling Jasker behind her to protect or use him as a shield. Everyone knew of Danica’s little crush on Ven accompanied by the searing hatred of Jaskier, which Jaskier found hilarious. Her poor attempts at getting under his skin being met by a smile and kindness. It pissed her off to no end.   
“Jaskier.” She sneered. Right on cue. Jaskier simply smiled at her.   
“What this time? Drowners? Ghouls?” Ven shoved her swords back into their sheaths, pointedly not looking at Danica. Danica, however, brightened instantly from her not so subtle death glares at Jaskier.   
“Even better. “ She shifted from foot to foot, vibrating like she had a bad case of the shivers. Jaskier shook his head at the love sick expression in her eyes. Why Ven didn’t make a move he would never know, then again some people were more picky with their bed mates.    
Ugh and he’d have to sleep in the main part of the house, cold and listening to them giggling… the walls were very thin, but that might be another deterrent seeing as her mother lived with her. 

Ven took a swig of the water skin.   
“Father wants you to slay a dragon.”   
Jaskier gave an undignified shriek, like a maiden as her lover chased her about, when water sprayed straight in his face. Not just water, no, that wouldn’t have been so bad, but spit water. Eww, Ven owed him a bath.

He wiped at his face and gave a playful glare at Ven who’s attention, for once, was entirely on Danica. The woman beamed at the attention, uncaring or unable to comprehend that this task was more than one mage and a rogue/bard could handle.    
Ice slithered it’s way down his back, stomach roiling with worry.

  
_If I had one wish, it would be for fate to take you off my hands_.

  
Jaskier clenched his eyes shut at the words bouncing around his head. He couldn’t...she wouldn’t…   
Was this fate having another joke? Was that all he was for destiny? A joke?   
Everything Geralt ever said to hurt him, every punch or 'shut up' came back to him. But Ven wasn’t like that, Ven enjoyed his company.   
Or did she?

“Stardust, you ok?”    
Jaskier startled at the nickname, he’d been so embroiled in his internal meltdown that he hadn’t seen Danica leave or what Ven had decided. “What?” Was the very eloquent answer he gave, but his silver tongue had turned to lead and his words sounded brittle to his own ears.   
“You look pale, here drink.” She pushed the water skin into his hand and Jaskier drank it gratefully. Dust seemed to have settled in his mouth and sapped at what little moisture he had. “So I said We’d look into it.” Ven continued though the look of worry never left her eyes and she seemed to be standing a little too close, as if he were about to faint. But she said we. It threw him off sometimes how she just assumed he was going with her, so use to being told he was staying put or to fuck off. But he had to keep reminding himself she was not Geralt. Which in certain aspects was good, like the tagging along bit, but a lot was bad, like the being hurt easier than a Witcher bit.   
He wasn’t quite sure he liked the trade off.

“Stardust?”    
Ven’s cheeks grew pink, “Just your sparkly and hard to keep hold of.” She shrugged and hurriedly made her way to the fence to hop over, “Whatever, I won’t use it again.”   
“Whoa, who said I didn’t like it.” He stumbled after her, almost tripping over the fence had Ven not caught him. He gave a grateful smile and continued, “I was just a little surprised.” the only other nickname he had been called was Dandelion. That had started as a childhood nickname and became taunts as he grew older and the other boys saw him as a target. He was a delicate flower after all. “It’s nice.Thank you.” the words were soft and quiet, only for her ears.   
Ven shrugged, “Welcome, come on let's go.” The pink in her face betrayed her nonchalant tone.

They headed back to the house and Ven saddled up Nettle for the short trip it took to get to the village, Jaskier helped by making sure they packed enough healing salve. Over the last year he found that while Witchers have their potions, Ven had her salve. It was a little worrying actually. Scratched up arm, salve. Bite marks, salve. Hole in the gut, you guessed it, salve. Anything injury she got would be brushed off with a “Just put salve on it.”    
The worst part was the salve worked for dulling the pain, clotting and boosting the healing factor of anybody, so getting her to a healer to make sure she hadn’t also contracted a virus was hell. Yet here he was shoving the stuff into their packs, his own lute strapped in its special case on Nettle.   
“I think it’s just a wyvern. Apparently it’s been eating merchants on the road, so Danica’s father wants us to get rid of it. A lot of his business comes from the travellers and merchants that come in so he’s hurting coin wise with the thing out there munching on people.” Ven chattered, trying to give him the details he missed when he had his little episode. Jasker nodded and hummed in acknowledgement, his strange mood still persisted even as he tried to forget about the last dragon adventure he went on.   
No, he was useful now. Ven had made sure he was useful.    
But being able to hold his own against a human was not the same as monster hunting.

A light pressure around his wrist had him looking up at an unsure Ven, her hand gently holding him to gain his attention, her gaze soft and concerned. She unconsciously rubbed her thumb soothingly where it lightly pressed against his pulse point, “Are you ok?”   
With a queasy smile he nodded, maybe a little too hard to get the awful doubts to bounce out of his head. He dropped his hand and hers followed, she refused to let go of him though, so they ended up loosely holding hands. It was a small comfort, but that fact she made an effort to comfort him at all was sweet and touching.   
Or perhaps he was going soft in his old age, even his poet heart would not have jumped this hard back in the days of his youth.   
“If this is about Geralt- if it makes you uncomfortable -”   
“No!” He said with too much force, but it felt a lot like being left behind. Ven took it in stride and just patted his hand.   
“Good.” She let his hand drop and finished strapping the saddle to Nettle, “Cause I was terrified I’d have to face a wyvern without my best friend.” She quickly hid her face and he knew she meant every word.

* * *

Jaskier dusted his hands on his trousers, “Well I think we should be off.”    
Ven nodded and swung herself up on to the old horse, she offered a hand when a voice stopped him.   
“Jaskier, a word.” Arlin stood in the open doorway of the house, arms wrapped around herself and eyes a soft red that belied hours of tears. Jaskier held his tongue. She looked utterly distraught.   
Ven went to hop down but Arlin’s shake of her head stopped her, “Sorry little Evergreen, just the bard.” Jaskier shot Ven a look, but she looked as bewildered as he did. If Arlin was upset then he thought himself the last person she’d want to comfort her, was him. Yet he found himself following her into the house.

Arlin thrust an envelope into his hand, “Should anything happen to me, you are tasked with giving her this.”    
“What is it?” Jaskier turned the envelope in his hand, the ceal held firm with the indentation of a tree keeping it closed. Being around two mages for a year had caused him to be able to feel magic, not like a witcher or mage could but if it was strong enough he could feel it in the air. This envelope would not open for him or anyone who wasn’t Ven.   
“None of your concern.” Arlin finally said, her back straight as she tried to maintain her posture in an attempt to hold herself together. Yet Jaskier could see the tears collecting at the edge of her eyes. He decided not to say anything as Arlin continued, “You care for my daughter, yes?”   
“Well, yes. She is my friend.”   
“Promise me you will protect her, help her should the worst come to pass.” Her voice broke at the end, her facade slipping. The promise threw him off though. Of course he would protect her, there was no doubt about that. She had saved him, he owed her. And far more than just his life.    
“I- Arlin, what’s this about?”   
“Promise me.” A hint of hysteria coloured her words, mixed with a fear Jaskier had only ever known a mother to hold for their child.   
“I promise. But-”   
“Call me Ma.”    
Jaskier blinked. Warmth wrapped itself around his chest, only Ven had ever been permitted to call her Ma, and the look of sadness had been softened by affection. “This must seem strange to you but I need to know she will have someone should something happen to me. I can’t tell you what this is, lest it come to pass.” She took his hand and squeezed gently, smiling at him she continued“ I entrust my daughters safety to you, Jaskier. I trust you to keep her safe.”   
“What’s this about?”

Jaskier finally joined Ven beside Nettle, she had been nervously tapping at the handles of her swords and jumped on him the moment she saw him.   
“Is she ok? Are you ok? What happened?” Jaskier couldn’t answer her rapid fire questions, still too stunned and raw from the conversation he had with Arlin. Or should he call her Ma now? The woman had thrown him off so hard he had bruises in the shape of her words, so jarring and hurt in the most pleasant way. Arlin cared for him, trusted him enough with her daughters safety despite the dangerous path he had started her on. He wanted to cry, or yell that he didn’t deserve her trust, nor her motherly love- that’s what she had exuded when she told him to call her Ma. Motherly love that he hadn’t felt since he left home as a teenager.   
“Jaskier!” Ven’s voice had a shade of panic that turned his stomach, she should never have to be scared. He didn’t want her to sound like that again.   
“Hush, it was nothing.” He said throwing his arms up into the air as if he were exasperated, “Just your mother worrying, telling me to make sure we’re careful, bla bla bla.” He grinned at her, but it felt off and he could see Ven didn’t quite believe it. Thankfully she didn’t say anything though, just swung back into the saddle and offered her hand to him.   
“If you say so, I trust you would tell me if it mattered.”

Jaskier thumped behind her, arms wrapped around her middle to stop from falling as Nettle trotted on. The envelope dug into his chest where he hid it in his doublet, a burning reminder of a promise and a sense that Arlin may be right about that something coming to pass. He really hoped he was wrong.


	5. Lies and deceit

The village wasn’t big; a few houses, the merchants, the blacksmiths and of course the local inn where everyone went for Jaskier’s more lewd songs. Thinking of the Inn seemed to have summoned it’s keeper as Julka stood outside her Inn, a bucket of dirty water up ended on to the dirt road no doubt from the tables Jaskier sometimes wiped down. She looked up as the two grew nearer, a wide smile spread across her face, “Ah if it ain’t the bard an his lovely forest goddess.”   
Jaskier shook his head and leapt to his own defence just as Ven shot him a confused look. Jaskier hopped down, “Now that song was about another lovely young woman, who happened to have green eyes and live near a forest.”   
Despite his obvious lie Ven said nothing and Julka gave him a knowing wink. Damn that woman, she may pay his wages but that didn’t mean she had to meddle in his affairs.   
Ven ruffled his hair to get his attention and gave a quiet laugh when he immediately tried to duck and comb his hair into some semblance of order. Not that he got very far, his hair had grown out quite a bit and, even though Arlin had cut it for him not that long ago, it still fluffed out in an outrageous mess when Ven did that. He had asked Arlin not to cut too much off, so now it curled just under his ears in what he thought was a very princely way. Another perk was that Ven would sometimes idly play with it when he played his lute, head in her lap as she studied one of the few books she owned on magic.   
“Sorry.” He could tell Ven was not sorry by the way she unabashedly grinned at him, “I’m off to see Danica’s father.” Though she asked no question he knew there was one.

Jaskier tilted his head up at her, “Would you like me to come?”  
An expression passed through her face before she looked to Julka, who still smiled that knowing smile, and shook her head.   
“I’ll be a minuet, then we’ll gather supplies and leave.”   
Ah so she had made a decision, she would kill the beast just as he knew she was. People took her awkwardness for uncaring, but the truth was she did. She never hid it, but it was hard to see under her panic in social settings, like it were a dance she didn’t know the steps to. 

Ven jumped down and handed Nettle’s reins to Jaskier, “Be back soon.” Then she was off in search of Danica’s father, Feliks. The same man who had headed the burning party when Jaskier first arrived. It was a wonder she had accepted in the first place, but Ven wasn’t one to hold much of a grudge against the villagers.

‘They don’t understand, so they fear it.’ She had explained.  
Jaskier sometimes forgot that outside of palaces Mages were treated with vitriol and spite, just for having something others didn’t.

“You need to tell that girl how you feel.” Julka hooked her bucket around her wrist so she could put her hands on her hips, disapprovingly staring Jaskier down. “You write enough songs about her.” She said to the look of shock he sent her way. “The girls sweet on you, anyone with eyes can see that.”   
“She’s just being friendly. We are best friends after all, said so herself. Did you know she-”   
“Jaskier.” Julka interrupted him with a stern voice, she reminded him so much of Arlin. The reminder of his promise once again burned in his chest.   
“Friends is as close as I’ll get.” He muttered wistfully, eyes glued to the side of Nettle’s pale neck. “No one could handle more of me.”   
Julka let out a sigh and shook her head at him, muttering something about young people, despite him being far from young, and fished a carrot out from her apron for Nettle to nibble on.   
“I should find her, lots of things to gather when your hunting dragons.” The cheer in his voice sounded hollow even to him and the empathetic look in Julka’s eyes made him feel worse.   
  


_Jaskier, shut up._

Jaskier almost cringed at Geralt’s voice in his head. Fuck him. Fuck him for making him feel this way when he had a friend that trusted him, a friend that would never leave him.

Julka pressed coin into his hand, enough for all the supplies they would need, Jaskier was about to protest but the woman shook her head, “Call it advanced payment.” Julka was far too kind to him, not only allowing him to play at her inn, but also giving him a job when the coin wasn’t as much as he had hoped. He wondered if it was all that motherly instinct that had been bottled up when her own son was lost to the war. Whatever it was he appreciate the offer and her help through the year he’d been there.  
“Thank you.” Jaskier bowed his head. All these mothers where making him miss his own.

Ven stormed over to where Jaskier was packing a bag of dried meats into Nettle’s pack.  
“Ass.” She muttered and Jaskier dramatically lay a hand against his heart as if hurt, Ven immediately went from angry to panicked, “Not you, god’s never you.” she tilted her head to the side with a playful smile, “Well perhaps sometimes.” Jaskier lightly tapped her arm and they dissolved into soft laughter.   
“Just he’s an ass, the way he talks to me.” She watched as a man slipped by them, frown in place, “Did you see-” Jaskier looked towards the man she had been pointing too, only he had disappeared. Ven shook her head and grabbed Nettle’s reins, “Lets go, before I set fire to his hair.”   
Though he would have liked to see it, he allowed her to lead them on.

* * *

The walk to the caves was about a day and a half walk, Ven used that time to educate Jaskier on the weaknesses of dragons, making sure he was ready for any possibility and showing him how to track. Jaskier learned more in the last twenty-four hours then he had through out the many years of following Geralt. When the sun finally set and Ven took pity on Nettle, Jaskier’s stomach protesting might also have swayed her, they made camp. Ven placed protection wards around them and started a fire with the flick of her hand, long gone where the attempts to hide her magic from him, other people were still a challenge though.

Jaskier Set fallen logs from the surrounding forest beside the fire as seats and brought out the dried meats for Ven and himself. She bit in to her food and Jaskier took out his lute, strumming a calming lullaby from his childhood.  
“Didn’t you fight a dragon? Before?” Ven asked out of the blue, she had always tried not to ask many questions about before he knew her. She seemed to know they brought a small spark of pain whenever he spoke of them, and indeed her tone was wary and low, like she was trying to tread carefully. But everything before had been tainted with Geralt’s words and the realisation that he had never been his friend, even after everything.   
“No, I was asleep.” And that had stung, when he realised Geralt had continued on without him. Not even a shake awake.   
“How’d they kill it?” It was a carefully asked question, careful to exclude specific names. Maybe she hoped it would be easier for him to talk.   
“Geralt helped it, him, helped him protect an egg. He didn’t want to hurt people, just wanted to protect the egg.” Something loosened in him a little saying Gerlat’s nam, like talking about it and acknowledging that it happened made it seem more in the past.

Ven nodded, “Good, maybe we can reason with it.”

Jaskier hoped she was right. He had no delusions that he would be useless in this fight, perhaps Ven would get the upper hand but he knew he always got in the way.  
Ven shifted closer to him as a gust of wind blew icily through their camp, a wolf howled of into the distance and she tapped at her hip only to realise she had taken them off and set the beside her. They both stared into the fire in their own thoughts, Jaskier about the dragon and the weight of a promise he made and Ven… Honestly he wasn’t going to pretend to know what she was thinking but whatever it was had her worried. She frowned into the fire with her fingers tapping out a tune to one of his songs on her sword handles.   
He bumped her shoulder, attracting her gaze as he intended but the frown stayed, “There was a man, with golden eyes.”   
Jaskier tensed.   
Geralt?   
Was he here? And why?

“He had blond hair.” She continued and Jaskier could finally breathe. “I think he’s a Witcher, but I’m not sure. Strange, I think he was following us.”  
Jaskier tensed. This Witcher was either here for the dragon or… or he was here for her, but they only killed monsters so why would he come after Ven? She would be fine, the worst that would happen would be the Witcher killing the dragon and them having to earn the meat and coin from that morning.   
Jaskier smiled widely and pulled his lute from it’s case, “Oh fishmonger.” He strummed, eyes fixed on Ven’s face. A smile made it’s way on to her face as she softly sang with him, jaskier stood abruptly and Ven almost fell, though he didn’t feel too bad when she let out a giggle when he offered his hand to pull her to dance.

Under the light of a silvery half moon and with shadows dancing along with them to the tunes Jaskier played, they laughed and Ven seemed to forget the worry she had been feeling moments ago. Together they brought light and laughter to the dark foreboding forest and Jaskier felt happier than he had for a very long time.

* * *

Jaskier put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene leading up to the foreboding cave just up ahead. Bodies lay strewn across the floor as a trail, some in muted grey armour but most were wearing long baby blue tunics with silvery thread woven into them to form images of trees and hummingbirds sipping nectar from ethereal flowers. Still these bodies looked like soldiers not merchants.  
“Something doesn’t add up.” Jaskier spoke up loudly and glanced at Ven who had been tying up Nettle a short walk away, “Didn’t he say merchants were going missing?”   
Ven nodded and Jaskier threw his arms out to gesture to the bodies lain around them, “Then where are the merchants?”   
She pressed her lips together with a frown and tapped at the handles of her swords as she gently touched Jaskier on her way to examine a body, “I think,” she she huffed and stood, a glare thrown back in the direction they came from, “I think we’ve been lied to. This Dragon’s just protecting itself.” She shook her head, “I’m not killing a peaceful animal. Lets go, they can have their coin but I’m keeping the meat for wasted time.”

Jaskier let out a breath and smiled, happy they wouldn’t be fighting a dragon today. He wasn’t sure how they would even fight one.

A roar sounded, from beast and man alike.  
Jaskier saw the look in Ven’s eye as she shook her head with a grimace, but headed in the direction of the fighting.

  
Ven wouldn’t kill a peaceful animal, and she wouldn’t let another do so either.   
Jaskier smiled fondly at his soft hearted mage before he chased after her, sword drawn.


	6. A dragons treasure

Now Jaskier hadn’t seen many dragons in his time, just the one that had sadly perished on the mountain where Jaskier had been thrown aside. That dragon had been a muted green colour, nothing too extraordinary, that made sense when he thought about where the creature had to live and hide in, trees and bushes would have been far easier to hide from hunters in if you at least looked the same colour as your surroundings. But even that brief glimpse had not prepared him for the purely majestic beauty of it’s cousin, the great red dragon.

Each roar bared glistening dark red scales that, in different lighting, sparkled with a burn orange glow around the edges as the wondrous creature arched its neck to breath fire. It was like watching a living flame dance around men armoured in the same blue and silver clothing as the ones littering the caves mouth. There were not many left and the dragon seemed to be getting the upper hand, despite the small sword wounds that looked more like scratches on the mighty beast.    
When the dragon noticed them Jaskier could see that scales had been melted together on its face.   
The left side.   
Where it stopped just under a steel grey eye.

“Arlin?” Jaskier stumbled, dropped to his knee as a sword swung at his head. A quick thrust up in the direction of the sword and a man fell gurgling on his breath. Ven was a distance away from him, fending of two men on either side.   
Jaskier made eye contact with the dragon again, his suspicions confirmed when the familiar voice of Arlin echoed through his head, “Remember your promise.”   
  


Jaskier stared until he was forced to jump to his feet, yelped when another man lunged towards his chest and only managed to jump away at the last second. Fabric ripped and his doublet fell open. Metal clanged against metal, his sword up in time to parry a down stroke. With quick reflexes, that had not been there a year ago, he hooked his foot behind the man's knee. His opponent wobbled and fell with his balance lost. Jaskier took this moment to side step and slice through the man's neck as he continued towards Ven. None of this would have been possible if Ven hadn’t drilled sword training exercises into him every waking minuet. Something he now thanked her for instead of cursing for the early starts and intensive training.

At his disgusted noise at the blood that splattered his ruined clothes Ven’s eyes glanced to him. The man behind her poised to strike her, her attention on Jaskier she didn’t realise even as she fended off the one in front of her. Jaskier scrabbled at his belt where her knife had stayed since the day at the lake. A silent prayer and a quick flick of clever fingers, more accustomed to the lute, and it sailed through the air.

“Fuck!” The man yelled and pulled the knife from his arm, not the intended target but it distracted him and directed Ven’s attention to the man. She sidestepped and used the momentum of the man in front of her to stab his friend behind her. She sent a smile to Jaskier as she ran the last man through and , despite the rather grim surroundings, he found her so beautiful. Even with blood stuck in her hair and splattered across her nose like mccabe freckles.    
“You saved me.” She grinned with such pride at his actions that Jaskier puffed up like a bird at her praise. He’d saved her. He hadn’t gotten her killed and he was her equal.

Arlin roared and began to shrink, bones breaking and mending to put together a body he was more accustomed to. Hair like flames pooled on the stone floor beside her, curled around her face and framed teary steel eyes. Arlin smiled and Ven crashed to her mother's side, Jaskier following slowly behind her.   
Even in human form she looked like something of immense power. It only seemed to be held in her steely gaze though and if you didn’t know her you would never have guessed at how truly terrifying she could be.

But then you also wouldn’t know how tender and loving she could be.

  
“Ma, you...but...how could I not know?” Ah so she too had been unaware of her mother's true nature. Took her daughter's hand and reached her other for Jaskier’s.   
Something dark glitter on them, like heer scales had during the fight. Jaskier stared at their hands until realisation had him breathing a soft “No.” Tears already sprung to the corners of his eyes as he felt Arlin give him a weak squeeze.   
  


Ven seemed to realise and with a sob tried to sit her mother up, finding a small wound seeping with blood and something foul smelling from her chest. 

Right where her heart would be.

Ven tried to drag her mother up and Arlin let her. Jaskier helped with an arm around her waist and supported her as they stumbled to the entrance of the cave. Bathed in the oranges of a setting sun, Arlin sighed and let her weight drop.   
“Ma! Come on, you need a healer.” Jaskier could hear the barely contained sob in Ven’s voice. A lump raised in his own throat when Arlin did nothing but shake her head and smile, gently pulling them to sit with her in the entrance of the cave and wrapped an arm around them both.

“I knew this would happen.” Arlin pressed a kiss to Ven’s head and the young mage pressed her tear stained face into her mother's shoulder. The very image of a child seeking comfort from her parent. “Don’t be sad little evergreen. I don’t regret any of it.”    
Ven sobbed harder, “You can’t die.” She muttered, sniffing, “What will I do without you?”   
Arlin turned to Jaskier. Her expression soft and lifted her hand wrapped around him to brush his hair out of his teary eyes, “You have Jaskier. Our little ball of sunshine.”    
Jaskier let out a hiccup of sadness and she pressed a kiss to his head as well. For all he had thought the woman hated him, it seemed she had actually adopted him too. It made sense, all the tellings off when he hurt himself and the smiles when he did something stupid. She was only hard on him because...because she saw him as her child too.   
And he had started this.   
With the lake and the songs of Ven killing monsters. He had brought this on them, like Arlin had said so long ago, nothing good had come of him being there.   
  


“They came for you.” She looked back at Ven who had peeked up from where she clutched at Arlin’s dress, hiding her face but staring with wide green eyes. “I didn’t want them to take you, couldn’t allow them to hurt you.” Her voice grew weak, as did her hold on them and Jaskier hugged her tighter. “I’m glad fate decided to give me both of you. My most prized treasures.”   
Arlin was fading, but even as she died she held strong. Face tipped to the rising moon with a smile. In the moonlight he couldn’t see the blood so clearly. It just looked like starlight dancing on the smooth surface of a lake. A lake that had started this.

“Thank you.” Jaskier choked on the words, sadness intent of rendering him silent. But she deserved these words, to hear them. “Thank you for looking after me and letting me stay. For being a wonderful mother to Ven and extending that to me.”   
Arlin let out a wet laugh, “It’s hard not to love you.”   
Jaskier disagreed, he knew how difficult it was to like him let alone love him. But he wouldn’t let her die with and argument being her last hours.   
“Thank you, for protecting me and loving me, and just being the best mother anyone could ask for.” Ven spoke up. 

Arlin gave a final sigh, whispering, “My treasures.” Before her eyes closed and Jaskier could no longer feel the ragged breaths she had been taking. Her hands fell limp.   
Ven screamed to the heavens.   
Jaskier cried silently.

* * *

The sun rose.    
Jaskier and Ven hadn't moved, hadn't slept. Still clutching the cold body of the woman who had given herself the job of their mother. A woman who had trusted Jaskier to protect Ven.    
  


But he couldn’t protect her from the heartache. Protect her from the hurt and devastation she now felt. 

He could, however, help lay Arlin to rest.

Ven didn’t move when he stood and rummaged around Arlin’s lair to find a worse for wear shovel. She didn’t look up from where she stared blankly at the sky when he dug a grave. She moved when he tried to take Arlin’s body. Her shaking hands gripped at Arlin and she sent a watery death glare Jaskier’s way. Jaskier tried not to look at the blue of Arlin’s lips as he gently took hold of Ven’s hands, “She wouldn’t want to be left here for the wolves to pick at her.” she loosened her grip at that, then reached hesitantly for Arlin’s neck.   
Ven gently eased a silver necklace with a tree hung from it, nothing fancy or expensive but the memories would be just as valuable for her. Jaskier nodded in understanding.

Ven reached for his hand when they had buried Arlin. A small bouquet of buttercups and daisies placed on the grave. Her hand shook and Jaskier pulled her closer to hold her together with his arms. It did nothing but keep her upright when she fell apart again.


	7. sad smiles of a heart shattered

Jaskier halfheartedly threw a hand up at the counter to grab Julka’s attention, not really a challenge at the late hour when many were asleep or too drunk to cause much more ruckus than drunken babbles. Behind him, silent and shrouded in darkness as if she attracted it to her in an attempt to hide from the world, Ven stared at the worn table he had helped her to. Both exhausted from the travelling and emotional torment, but Jaskier seemed to be the most able to function out of the two. He wasn’t sure if it was shock or exhaustion that had her in such a state, probably both. They hadn’t stopped to rest like they had when they climbed the mountain, Jaskier could see the toll it took in the way Ven’s eyelids would close before she jolted awake again. Head heavy she rested it on her clasped hands, eyes flitted to him and a small smile graced her lips though it did not grace her eyes. It was reassuring, for him. She was trying to reassure him.  
Jaskier tipped his head and tried to return the smile, but found that another hidden sob tried to burst from his chest, instead he ducked back around to wait for Julka to see him.

“Jaskier?” Julka was drawn like a moth to flame when she caught sight of his tear stained face, no doubt the despair rolled of him like waves and hastened her steps. She took his hand, her mouth drawn in a grim line as she asked, “What happened?”   
The sob won its freedom and Jaskier hide his eyes, “Can we have a room please.” the words were quiet and worn from not speaking for hours, but he knew she heard him. “I have the coin.” He pushed what little money he had left from his advance. Julka pushed the coins back at him, along with a room key.   
Jaskier opened his mouth to argue, but Julka shook her head, “You look like you need it. I’ll put it on your tab.” She smiled gently at him, “There’s only one room I’m afraid, but I’ll have two baths sent up and a divider for both of you.”   
Jaskier gave his thanks and tiredly tried to turn away, but Julka took him gently by the arm.   
Voice soft she asked the question he had been trying to avoid before, “What happened? Why aren’t you both going home?”

Home.  
It was an odd thing to hear, having had no home for many years since he left Oxenfurt many years ago, but the little farm had become his home. A place where he was loved and wanted. A place he had destroyed by just being there and bringing with him the attention they didn’t want. He understood now why Geralt had blamed him. He was a curse. And he had shovelled shit on a family who didn’t deserve it.   
Julka gently shook him from his silence.   
“Arlin. Arlin’s dead.” He tore away from the Innkeeper, key in hand and a heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with tiredness. Ven looked up when he placed a hand on her head, silently followed him when he showed her the key.

Baths were drawn and a divider placed between the tubs as promised. Julka had even sent food for them, steaming stew with rabbit and large chunks of potato. They ate in silence before Ven disappeared behind the divider and he heard her get in, Jaskier saw the wisdom in that and followed her lead.   
Steam swirled over his head when he sank gratefully into the warmth, aches and pains eased a little by the salts he had dropped in the swirling waters.   
He took a moment to breathe.   
“What do we do now?” He asked softly. Noises stopped and he heard her sniffle.   
“I don’t want to go back.” She said. Jaskier knew what she meant. She didn’t want to go back home, it was too painful and he had understood that when they left the mountain. That was why he had chosen the inn.   
  


But they needed a plan now. Now they knew someone was after her they needed to have a destination in mind, or at least a battle plan. Jaskier had never been good at this stuff, Geralt always took care of the important things while he played his lute and brought them more coin. Now he understood why the Witcher was so grumpy, this plan thing was hard.  
“The armour. It’s not like any I’ve seen, but they are the enemy.” Ven spat, like an angry cat. But even the most harmless looking cat had claws and he had no doubt that she was ready to sink her claws into those who had come for her. Jaskier wholeheartedly approved of that plan, though perhaps he shouldn’t. “I’m gonna find them and kill them.” It was a statement as if she knew it would one day be a fact.   
Jaskier had expected himself to be scared to go up against a faceless faction, he’d thought the idea would at least ignite a spark of worry. But nothing fluttered in his breast, nothing even stirred. Perhaps it was false confidence in his new fighting abilities or that Ven would be at his side and would never allow anyone or thing to hurt him. Whatever it was, it sang for retribution. But he had made a promise and he would not let her run head first into the danger Arlin had tried to protect her from.   
Idly he thought he should be at least concerned about his capability for a deep seated hate that had never stirred before. But he had never had a loved one ripped so cruelly from the world, at such a speed that there was nothing but agony in the spaces that person took up.  
Arlin had been a mother he had needed.   
A mother he wanted still.  
And it ached. It must feel worse for Ven.

Behind the divider he could hear Ven get out and hurried himself to dress. Water dripped everywhere but at least she wouldn’t be faced with him naked. To most a pleasure to see, but he doubted she would think the same way.

Ven tiredly stumbled to the bed, a white chemise slipped off her shoulder and loose trousers kept her legs warm. The chemise had been Jaskier’s, but their clothes were so similar they sometimes wore each other things so it was not an uncommon sight. What was uncommon was the blank look Ven had as she sat on the edge of the wooden bed, one leg hanging off the bed while she sat on the other.  
“You don’t have to come with me.” Her voice was flat and her eyes slide past his own, but he could see the way her hands tightened when she said it. Jaskier shook his head, seeing how she relaxed with a sigh and sagged like a weight had lifted from her shoulders, “I know you made a promise-”   
“No.” Jaskier swiped the letter from his doublet as he approached and wrapped his arms around her. Her shoulders shook as she pressed her face into his stomach, but he wasn’t sure if it was a silent laugh or sob. He combed the short, half dried strands with his fingers, “I may have made a promise, but I would never have made it if I wasn’t confident that I would have kept it without her prompting.” At his words she reached previously limp arms around him and pulled him with her on the bed.   
They arranged so she could hide her face in his neck as they lay down. The envelope crumpled in his hand, a reminder that the mountain was not the last words Arlin had for Ven.   
“I would follow you anywhere, I do need material for my ballads after all.”   
Ven huffed a laugh, “Also you need someone to be scary while you're all…” She floundered, “Sunshiny.” He could feel her frowning against his skin then lifted her head so he could see that, yes she was in fact frowning.   
“Sunshiny?”   
“Sunshiny.” She said with conviction.

They lay there for a while, just looking at each other and trying to offer comfort for the horror and heartbreak they had faced. Jaskier brought his hand down to wrap around her shoulders, the envelope smacked her in the face.  
“What the fuck, Jas?”   
Jaskier shrugged with her head still on his shoulder, “Arlin, she left a letter.” He said quietly and all fight left her as she pulled away with the envelope clutched in her hand. She brushed a hesitant finger over the seal and, as he had expected, the seal popped open like a box lid. She just stared.   
Jaskier remained silent.

  
Ven stared, but didn’t open it.

* * *

Jaskier woke first. Blue tinted black hair tickled his nose and Ven’s breath warmed his collar bone where she faced into him. Her face lax and with no worry or sadness he could almost believe that she were a normal woman with normal worries, and not a warrior mage who had witnessed her mother's death.  
What good was he? He couldn’t even ease her pain.   
With a sad smile he untangled himself from her grip, her arms reached out seeking his warmth and Jaskier pushed his pillow into her waiting arms. Instantly she calmed and fell further under.

Silently he dressed and made his way downstairs where he sang and wiped tables to lighten his debt. Said debt owner kept giving him sympathetic looks and every time he looked away from where his lute sat he swore the bag of gold grew heavier.   
He played some more when the swell of the dinner crowd saw his lute and chanted for a song, when Ven came down. Fully dressed and with not even a glance in his direction she left, but he could see her hands tap at the handles of her swords.   
Maybe she needed space to process.   
Maybe that was why she hadn’t asked him along.   
It made sense but he couldn’t help but worry. Jaskier winked at a young man who had been at the last few of his little concerts and reminded himself that Ven was an adult, and if she needed some time alone then he should give it to her.  
It still didn't quite the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Danica came and went, looking for Ven after being told she was at the Inn. They managed enough of a civil conversation for her to agree to look after the chickens and cow on the farm for a couple of days. For which he begrudgingly thanked her.  
It wasn’t long until she burst through the door again, Dren frantic behind her. Her eyes scanned the room before zeroing on him, not an ounce of malice behind her eyes for the first time since he met her, only a deep fear that had him on his feet.   
“Thank fuck!” Danica yelled, shocking Jaskier at her colourful language. She’d been acting so sweet and innocent around Ven, so hearing it was a little jarring. “Come on! She’s going to kill him!”

With that she ran from the Inn, Jaskier and Dren hot on her heels.

He just hoped Ven hadn’t gotten into trouble.


	8. Departure from comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologise for how long this took, but real life had to wear me out enough that I just had no more energy to write more than a couple of sentences. But I'm back :)  
> I would also like to thank all of you for reading and commenting, I know I don't write many of these at the beginning of the chapters but i would just like to express how much I enjoy all your comments and knowing there are some people still reading.  
> Anyway, onward!

“Who are they?”   
Jaskier burst through the door, not so easy when Danica stood in his way and yelled at him to do something. What did she expect him to do with Dren yelling and Danica herself shouting at him? As for Feliks, Danica’s father, Jaskier didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the man as he was a blubbering mess on the floor while Ven stood above him with papers scrunched in her hand and the air of someone who was a hairs breath away from snapping completely. Ven glanced at the door, her eyes made contact with his and he could see a silent plea in them, a plea to stop her before she did something they would all regret.. At least she had calmed enough for him to edge close enough to take her arm, instantly she relaxed and leaned into him until Jaskier was forced to wrap his arms around her. It was awkward hugging someone sideways while a terrified family watched the terror that had ransacked the office turn from feral to feeble in ten seconds flat.    
Though perhaps Feliks still felt that seeing as Ven hadn’t stopped glaring holes into his head once Jaskier had hugged her. “Evergreen, what’s going on?” He tried to keep his tone calm and ignore Danica’s sniffles.    
“She tried to kill me!” Feliks squeaked.   
“Well you did try to kill her before.” Jaskier pointed out and Ven gave a huff of laughter. But none of this told him why Ven had become so upset as to become violent. Over the year he stayed with her he had never seen her get so angry, only once and that was because Jaskier had almost gotten himself killed. But even then it was more worry than actual anger.   
  


Ven pulled away enough to show him the seal on an official letter, from some Queen he had never heard of, to send Ven to the caves. Jaskier broke the seal from the letter, a finger traced the indentation of the blood red wax, fitting for the death sentence it carried. He looked at Ven’s haunted expression, “But that’s- that’s the same image that had been on those men.”

The seal depicted a hummingbird sipping from a flower.

Fuck.   
  


Feliks scrabbled to get away but Ven pulled herself from Jaskier’s arms completely, lightning fast her hand reached out and yanked Feliks by his tunic collar. He gave a strangled yelp when the teasing licks of fire warmed the back of his neck. Ven dropped him and brought her hand to her chest, as if she had been the one almost burned by her own magic and not the man who had who now hid behind his daughters legs.   
What a brave man he was.

“Now I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation for this, right my good sir?” Jasker exuded all the deadly calm cheer he could, though he suspected many would have laughed at his display, but Feliks had already been intimidated enough to the point where words tumbled from his mouth.    
“They made me, would take the village’s children, I’m sorry, please. I didn’t know.'' The man shook as he climbed to his feet, Dren shook his head at his father. Disappointment clear in his eyes, disappointment that no young boy should feel at his own parent.   
“Liar!” it was Danica who exploded this time, her small hands beat at her father's chest, “You knew, that’s why you were in such a good mood that day. That’s why you weren’t surprised that Miss Arlin was dead, but almost choked at the news Miss Evergreen had returned, along with Jaskier.” She shoved her father away when he finally grabbed at her arms to stop her and took a step back to stand alongside Jaskier and Ven, her eyes glittered with unshed tears but her face was a mask of stone.   
  


Feliks reached out. Danica shook her head.   
“I did it for you. For both of you.”   
“No, Da. You did it fer you.” Dren also stepped away from his father. Jaskier idly wondered where he picked up the accent if neither his sister or his father had it, but now was not the time to speculate. Beside him Ven shook, like a tree in a storm she vibrated until he could feel it in his bones. He tasted the tang of magic in the air, one hand he tried to hold on to her shoulder but her vibration gave him a headache and forced him, not only to let her go but to step away from her. The bright midday sun, moments ago had lit the room and warmed the old wood beams and illuminated dust motes, dimmed in the room; sucked out like whatever was happening had eaten the light and sucked the warmth it had provided.

“Evergreen?” Jaskier tried, but as he watched her the fire that had sparked up in small fires across her arms darkened. The dancing flames slowed to something that writhed like eels or snakes, black in colour and thick like the bogs he had the displeasure of getting stuck in.   
“Ven?” He tried again.    
Nothing.   
Her breath puffed raggedly, her eyes squeezed shut as she brought her arms close to her. Sweat beaded against her forehead and Jaskier had never felt such terror from someone who held such power in her hands. That could only mean one thing.   
Ven couldn’t control this.

Jaskier wasn’t so much stupid as he was more of a reactionary person. So when Ven let out pained whine his hand had shot to take her arm. Her eyes snapped open, forest green flecks swam about a sea of black like fireflies.    
“Stardust.” There was that nickname again, quiet, scared. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Jaskier pulled her towards him, instinct to protect overriding the instinct of danger. Realistically she could kill him with whatever magic this was, but he felt no fear. Trust was always a double edged sword for him, he trusted too easily and often his heart would be hurt. Geralt was a prime example.   
Yet as Ven pressed her face into his shoulder and he rubbed at her back, he found sunlight filter back into the room. Warmth returned and Ven’s shaking had stopped.   
“Is she alright?” Danica stepped in his line of view, frown on her face and wearily inching closer.    
“Are you ok?” Jaskier looked down to ask Ven softly. With a snuffle and a nod against his collar bone she pulled away enough to wipe her eyes and Jaskier gently cupped her face to look at her eyes.    
They were so close. So close.   
Her breath ghosted across his face, her tongue flicked out wet her lips and swallowed almost audibly. Again she seemed to be drawing him in, a gentle current that guided him towards her, guided his eyes to flicker to her lips. Guided him to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.   
“Your eyes are normal again.” His voice was quiet but filled with false cheer. He pulled away and those eyes that had once been black with specks of green had now returned to the deep forest it had been before.    
  


Ven blinked and something passed across her face before she averted her eyes to the desk behind Jaskier, where a whirlwind of paper piles filled with letters and business transactions. If there was anything else that could shed light on how they found Ven and who these mysterious persons were. Unfortunately, the coward he was, Feliks had fled so there was to be no interrogation.   
Perhaps for the best given this strange new power Ven found herself having, with no control on the outburst at all and how it seemed to distress her so much. 

Ven shuffled papers around, glancing up at the three other people in the room.   
“I’m sorry.”   
“No need to be.” Danica assured her.   
“Jus don kill im, please.” Dren added, slightly apprehensive. Ven flinched ever so slightly, small enough that the siblings wouldn’t see, but Jaskier could.    
“Are you ok?” Danica asked. Jaskier watched as Ven gave her a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes and fiddled with a piece of paper.   
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She lied. Finally she looked up at Jaskier, “We know who’s after me at least.” though it should have been a relief to have, at least, this information, he could see the way her shoulders tensed and the way her fingers tapped at her sword handles. “Though, I've never heard of this Queen Mab. Doesn’t sound like a Queen from round here.”   
  


Indeed it didn’t. And yet something tickled the back of his mind, or more likely knocked rather harshly, but Jaskier shook it off. He could think about that later when he had talked to Ven and they decided what to do with the farm.   
Jaskier held out his hand to her, “Come on, we should get back to the inn.” Ven gave a reluctant nod and allowed him to take her arm, Jaskier finally looked to the two siblings, who had been whispering to each other, “And perhaps you should find your father, make sure he’s OK.”   
Ven flinched again as Danica and Dren scampered off.   
Jaskier would rather set fire to the man himself than have him checked on, but way something loosened in her shoulders and the relaxed look in her eyes as they walked told him the gesture had calmed her conscience. 

* * *

As soon as their door had closed Ven had started pacing, fingers tapping a tune on her swords as she did so.   
“What the fuck is happening. What teh fuck?” She brought her hands up to stare at, kept at a distance as if that made her safer from something attached to her body. Hysterically she sought his eye and flinched when she did, glancing away and pressing her hands against her chest, smothering them in case they caught alight again.

Jaskier didn’t know what to do.   
He had no idea what they should do, with people coming after them and this emergence of new magic. He was at a loss.   
What he did know was that they needed to move now, before whoever this Queen was sent more men after her.

“What do we do?” She asked quietly. Defeated eyes still cast to the floor.   
Jaskier took a breath, gathering all the energy he could and directing it to being as cheerful as possible. He swung an arm around her shoulders.   
“I think we need to leave, like right now.”   
Ven nodded and half halfheartedly packed their belongings, “But after that? I didn’t get much of a clue from his letters, just a name, a name that means nothing to me.”   
Jaskier moved to the small satchel with the oils he had gathered from his travels, running low on many of the more expensive scents, and pretended to sort through them while he thought. 

Whoever this was seemed to be a Queen of some court, but of what land Jaskier didn’t know despite having travelled far and wide through the many years he had spread his songs.    
“I have many favours in many courts,” He flashed her a proud smile and pressed a hand to his chest, “Many a paramour who could possibly offer assistance in our troubling times.”   
His ridiculous and dramatic antics did nothing to dislodge the air of unease around the mage, nor did it earn a fond smile as it usually would.   
Whatever this magic she had found in herself had scared her, possibly more than the threat of an assassination from some Queen.    
Sword worn hands neatly folded their shirts and hid them safely in a bag, Ven’s eyes trained on the wall as her body took over to complete the familiar job. He could almost hear her brain buzz with a thousand different thoughts and questions, he had a few himself; starting with who was Ven?

Who was she to have a dragon as her guardian?    
Who was she to have this Queen so intent on killing her?   
And why did he feel that same air of destiny chasing at her heels the same way it had chased at Geralt and Yennifer?

Whatever happened though, whether they found the answers or not, Jaskier knew just the place to start.


	9. the journey begins

It was still dark when Jaskier woke, with a bleary glance around he knew why.   
Their bags were gone.   
He leapt from the bed with all the grace of a newborn foal, limbs flailing as he managed to pull on his boots and scramble from the room. Flashes of a dead fire and the soft imprint of horses hooves long gone, so familiar he felt like his stomach had been dropped in a well.    
How far would she go?   
How far had she already gotten?

Through his still sleep fogged mind he managed to locate the stables where Nettle had been stabled. Breath obscured his view as it puffed in front of him in the pitch dark, movement from the other unseen horses kept him straining his eyes for what lay beyond the blanket of blindness. Only a solitary light, warm and inviting, guided him.   
soft , playful flames licked tenderly at the hand that cast them, and Jaskier could hear the faint mutterings of someone lavishing attention on a well deserving horse.   
Jaskier took a breath. Made easier with the sight of sleep mussed black hair and the glowing eyes of Nettle. The horse pushed her head into his chest, a gesture some might call affection, but he knew as the sneaky mare trying to find any hidden goodies on his person. As long as they were still here he didn’t care.

“Can’t sleep?” Jaskier patted at Nettle’s head, but she pulled away when she realised he had nothing to offer her and instead took an offered apple from Ven’s hand. From the flickering flame he could make out the dark circles of someone who hadn’t slept as much as they should, and briefly wondered if the times she had slept in was only her body giving up to get enough to rest. Even that didn’t seem to have worked.   
“I think we should leave.” Her eyes darted behind him as if searching. Whatever it was she was searching for, evidently, wasn’t there. “I feel...I feel like we’re being watched.” she turned back to tug the saddle bags shut and Jaskier finally saw that their bags had already been strapped to the saddle. Her face still in a grim line with sadness soaked in every word she uttered, it made him ache to sooth her hurt. Without thinking he stepped forward to comfort her with a hug and a joke. All he got in warning was her horrified face before the flame went out and he felt a gust of wind rush past him.

  
“What-”   
“Don’t come near me.”    
“Why?”   
Silence stretched until he heard her say in a voice so small, “Not when I’m using magic. I might hurt you.”    
Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at that, and even in the dark he could feel her glare of disapproval. He searched blindly for her, but ultimately came up empty and settled for smiling in her general direction, “I’m sorry, but I can’t fathom you ever hurting me. Like.. ever.” He heard her huff of frustration and jumped to interrupt her before she could dismiss his assurance. “When have you ever hurt me? Intentionally or otherwise?”   
He took her silence as a resounding, never. Like he said, she would never and possibly could never hurt him.

A flame appeared again, along with Ven’s terrified face. Her lip wobbled, “This new magic-” she looked directly at the flame in her palm, “It scares me.” she admitted, her voice wavered and broke on the words.   
Jaskier surged forward and encased her in his arms, a weak protection from the world and all her fears, but it was all he could think to do. The small part of his mind that actually processed his bad decisions, and told him he was an idiot, expected the pain of being so close to the fire in her palm. Even as she buried her face into his shoulder he peeked at the flame… but it just moved around him. The flames seemed to bend away from him as if they didn’t wish to lick at his flesh and char the skin there. 

He smiled.   
She could never hurt him.

  
  


Quickly they had woken Danica and entrusted the farm to her. She was, after all, the only other person Ven had befriended in the village and therefore the only one she trusted to look after her home. As soon as that was taken care of Ven had set a fast pace out of the village and into the woods that surrounded them. Jaskier fell asleep in Nettle’s saddle, Ven’s arms around him to keep him from falling as they continued on.

He awoke again bathed in the rays of a rising sun and the tantalising smell of cooked meat over a small fire. Each of his joints protested and popped loudly as he stretched enough to realise he had been deposited in a bed roll, warm and smushed together with another bed roll.   
“Morning.” Ven smiled up from where she sat slowly spit roasting what looked like a rabbit. It seemed far from the village, and the reminder of what they were running from, had bled some of the tension from her shoulders. Even the way she watched the woods as if searching for something was more relaxed than she had been yesterday. There was still that hint of sadness that shadowed her face and wormed a home in her eyes. But it was better.   
  


“Well someone's chipper.” She inclined her head towards him but said nothing as he sat on a log beside her. Their shoulders brushed as she tore off a piece of meat for him, he took it gratefully as she tore another piece for herself.   
She almost choked on a laugh when he wrinkled his nose at the way she tore at the meat like an animal, juice dripped from her chin into the fire where a sharp hiss signalled the dissipation of the liquid. But honestly, couldn’t she eat with a bit more decorum? He knew Arlin had taught her manners and...oh. The sharp bitter sweet pain of her memory caught him off guard.

“Where are we going?” She asked.Eyes on him and full of concern, she must have seen the way his smile faltered at the memory of Arlin.   
He just smiled brighter and bumped his shoulder with hers to express his thanks for the subject change. It seemed even when she didn’t know what caused it, she always tried to ease his pain.   
“There’s a young lord further north from here.” He leaned back slightly to crack his back, wincing when a pain shot up his spine.    
Gods he was getting old. 

“His wife’s mistress is a friend of mine.”    
Ven raised an eyebrow with a snort, “Sure, friends.” She grinned at him as if she believed he was friends with this mistress as much as she believed the sky was purple.   
“Oh, hush.” He flapped a hand at her to silence any more, and though she managed to stamp down the grin, her eyes still shone with mirth. “Anyway, she should be able to get us safely under her lover's husbands protection. Aaaand she’s a spy for her lover, so she should be able to help with our search.”

Ven pressed a hand to her doublet chest pocket, “I hope you’re right.” she threw another stick into the fire. Flames flickered up to her hand, where it left her untouched but curled into her hand like a cat seeking attention. Ven stared unseeing and unknowing of the flames she called to her hand like a beacon.

* * *

  
  


It took three weeks to arrive on the outskirts of farm land that spread out from the where a castle stood proud and daunting in the distance. They travelled through the lower parts where the farmers lived with their families, small cottages that housed large broods placed here and there until they got closer to the manor. Mud and dust made way for cobbled streets and vendors selling all sorts of goodies, while throngs of soldiers marched through the streets at a steady pace.   
“What’s going on?” Ven asked, her hair tickled his chin when she turned her head to watch the soldiers go. Nettle stopped with a snort of protest and refused to carry them any further, her front leg pawed at the ground as she bent her neck to tell them to get off. The poor dear gave him a head bump for tiring her for so long as he hopped off her back and helped Ven down as well. 

“No idea, but my dearest  Katarzynka should know.” Jaskier gripped Nettle’s reins and led the reluctant horse onwards to the manor. They followed a road that wound higher and higher until the looming castle stood before them behind an open gate, where many more soldiers went about reading wagons and securing steeds. 

A woman flitted about checking the supplies and ordering men about, surprisingly they do as she asked. A deep maroon doublet accented the curves of her waist and stopped just below where her naval would be, on any other woman it would have fit fine but she was a willowy on with long legs and a long body to match. The breeze ruffled a buttercup yellow skirt about her shoes as she dashed here and there, lily white chemise sleeves pulled up to her elbows as she helped a young boy heft a barrel he was struggling with into the wagon.

She swiped at her forehead and pushed some of the light brown strands with a hint of honey that had fallen from her braid. Half her hair underneath left to sway in the breeze as they may.

“Don’t they have servants for that?” Jaskier yelled over the clamour of armour and horses. Instantly the woman’s hard brown eyes zeroed in on him, then they softened as a smile fought with the stern expression she tried to keep as she looked at him.   
“My, my, has the lark returned for a summer song?” She strode towards him, Ven hesitantly inched forward and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow from the woman.   
“Jaskier, you brought company.” Her smile grew, but it wasn’t the joy she fought before. No this was far more lecherous, her voice deeper with an inclination that she meant more than just a drink would occur between them. She almost purred as she looked Ven up and down. Ven for her part shifted and couldn’t make up her mind if she was going to meet the woman’s eye of stare red faced over her shoulder.

Jaskier swept into a low bow, mostly to hide his mirth at Ven’s face, and snapped back up right with a flourished hand. “How rude of me.” he gestured to Ven, “May I introduce the jewel of the forest, the slayer of sirens, the one and only,” he paused for effect and the woman’s facade slipped enough to give him a fond eye roll at the same time Ven gave a laugh, “Our lady Evergreen, Venitra Kalena Brzezicki.”   
Jaskier waits a breath, waits for Ven to disagree and say he’s talking nonsense. But she just nodded and held out her hand with a smile.  
“Katarzynka Lewandowski, mistress to the lady of the manor.” She grasped Ven’s hand, but rather than shake it she bent her slender form to press a lingering kiss to the knuckles of Ven’s hand, “But my friends call me Katya.” she continued with a wink, “And I do hope we become friends.”  
  


As much fun as it was to watch Ven open and close her mouth like a fish out of water, Jaskier took pity when she sent him a pleading look.   
“Now, now. None of that, or you’ll make me jealous.” He playfully swatted at Katya’s hand and mock frowned at her. Katya just laughed at him and waved for them to follow, another wave of her hand and Nettle was being led towards the half empty stables.    
Jaskier turned to smile at Ven but found her attention to be directed towards the gates, as if she saw something or someone.    
When they entered the castle she shook her head and scanned the route they took, almost as if she were memorising it.

Jaskier shook his head and thought of the plan at hand.


	10. Emotional manipulations

Katya led them through the castle, “Sorry for the ruckus, but we’re in the midst of gathering army’s from the neighbouring lords.” She stopped at a wooden door and gestured to it, “This is where we leave you, lady Evergreen.”   
Ven’s eyes went to Jaskier. He startled at the trusting gaze that asked him if she should, asked if he would be OK alone with Katya. There was also a flicker of fear behind her eyes and he gave a gentle smile before hugging her.   
“I’ll be fine.” He whispered in her ear.   
“You better.” She said with no heat, before they pulled away. A relaxed breath eased his somewhat tense shoulders, thankful that she would be kept away from the lies and intrigue of court spies. At least for a while.

With a lingering look towards Katya, who grinned at her like the cat that caught the canary, Ven disappeared into her room.

“Good, now the child is put to bed we may discuss why you’re really here.” Katya’s long legs carried her past him. She was never made for physical warfare, much like how he had been, but she was a master at words even surpassing himself. She could cut a man down to nothing with a well placed question, innocently asked as if she were a still a naive young lass and not the forty something year old woman who played the court like a game of gwent.  
So though the comment annoyed him he saw it for what it was, probing for information on Ven. And he was not about to give her more information than he needed to find this Queen and take care of whatever problem she had with his Evergreen.

Katya sighed at her bait being left untouched and oh how he loved this game. The game of lords and ladies, where a wrong word could have you leaving the event with no head or another having ample information to blackmail you into giving up everything you had ever worked for. But the high of winning another day, of having bested such arrogant bastards had always been far more effective than any siren song.   
Yet as thrilling as it was he wanted Ven as far away from that as possible. She was not made for this world.

Jaskier followed, a sour taste in his mouth at their sparing. He wasn’t in the mood to dance around with intrigue, he had Ven to look after. She trusted him to gather the information they needed and they couldn’t spare the time.   
Katya rolled her eyes and pulled him into an alcove, “I can hear you thinking you know.” She pressed close to him, a delicate hand already placed on his waist to keep him in place more than an intimate act. This was how they kept their secrets from the other players of the game. This was how they conspired.   
Yet from her smooth face devoid of emotion he knew she was about to ask something of him. This would either make things easier or infinitely harder.   
He pressed close into the farce of a stolen kiss, even as soldiers clattered past and tried to pretend they hadn’t seen them.

A smile curled at Katya’s lips, close enough he could feel her breath even as she whispered, “Our dearest Kamilka will want to see you.” Ah so Kamila was going to ask something of him, Katya was only giving him a warning. She pulled away and looked him up and down, “Even if you do look like a stable hand.”

Jaskier looked down at the clothes he had been sharing with Ven for over a year. Always brown and drab, but he hadn’t had to think about keeping up the facade as long as he was around Ven. She never seemed to care.  
But he did miss his silks.   
  


Jaskier just gave a cheeky grin, “Nothing wrong with a stable hand.” he gave her a leering wink. Katya placed a finger against her lips, but it did nothing to stifle the short laugh she gave at his antics.  
They carried on down the corridor, her arm firmly encircling his. “I know that you want to ask for something.” She said stopping outside the large doors that would lead to their great hall, “ And if you agree to what Kamilka askes, then I shall help in any way I can.”   
“No freebee for your loyal lark.”   
Katya tucked his long hair behind his ear, “ We are in need, and with our lord riding off to help our king push back the black stain that is Nilfgaard, with most of our able bodied men..” She took a breath and patted his cheek, “Just agree, please.”

The hall had been refurbished in his long absence. Still with high ceilings with paintings no one could hope to see properly and wide enough that the many banquet worthy tables took up only half of the hall. Pushed to the edges so there was a large space to dance. Kamila was awfully fond of dancing.  
Their long friendship began when she was only twenty three and he had been hired to play music while she had her dance lessons from a friend he had made at Oxenfurt. She had been such a young thing then, still was. Even at the age of thirty one, bouncing a babe in her lap, there was still that youthful glint that court just couldn’t kill in her. Golden hair had been pulled up in a thousand braids away from her angulare face, tiny jewels sparkled when she moved her head and pressed a kiss to her son's curls.   
Her gown reminded him of the soft pink of camellia flowers he knew grew in her gardens. It was a gown fit for a queen and her husband beside her dressed in golds, certainly held his head high as if he were the king. Yet even from across the hall he could see the young boy buzzing with excitement, even as he tried to school his features to hide his youthful energy. Aleksy had been nineteen when he married Kamila and she twenty six, and despite their arranged marriage, seemed to be good friends and even better partners in running their land, even if it was Kamila who ran most of it.

Katya peeled away from him to stand behind the large throne like chair and took the babbling baby from Kamila’s lap with a kiss. The child cooed, cherubic with his dark brown curls like his father and bright gleaming blue eyes he inherited from his mother. It was clear in the soft looks all three parents gave the giggling child that they loved him dearly. Jaskier couldn’t help his own soft smile at the display of love. Not many noble born children were loved, many of them just bargaining chips in the great court game or heirs that needed to be made to ensure a legacy. Jaskier had been as lucky as this child once, but even then this love had been conditional.

He pulled his smile into a large grin and bowed low and theatrical in how he stopped low, back bent in and legs crossed one behind the other for deepening the bow still.   
“My Lord and lady, I was informed you requested my presence.”   
Aleksy nodded somberly, for once showing a seriousness Jaskier had never seen on him before. Instantly Jaskier braced himself. Whatever it was it must be important.   
“Yes, it pains me to summon you for something other than a performance.” Aleksy sighed and kamila took her husband's hand.   
Kamila stood and walked towards Jaskier so they were at the same level, her eyes tearful but held a fierceness he had only truly seen from her a couple of times. 

“With nilfgaard marching into our lands we have no choice but send our men to fight beside our king.” she turned to look at her husband, who nodded at her, trusting her to do whatever it was she was going to do.  
“My husband will soon join them, but that means we have no one to help us.” She turned back to Jaskier and grasped his hands. He almost jumped, not expecting the touch, but stayed still. This wasn’t about the game anymore, there something worse, something they seemed to think he could help with.

Katya came towards him with the child, “ His name is Eryk.” Katya said as she gently placed the child in his arms, Kamila let go of him and stepped away enough that Jaskier could take the child. Eryk stared up at him with wide blue eyes. Jaskier half expected him to start bawling as was his luck, but no. Eryk gave a delighted gurgle and patted at Jaskier’s cheek before erupting into peels of laughter.  
“There is something stealing children.” Kamila whispered as she ran a hand through Eryk’s hair. “We need a Witcher, please.”   
  


Well played Kamila. Was all he could think for a second as he held this tiny thing that had been threatened and felt himself pull the child closer as if to protect him.   
Then her words caught up with him.   
  


Fuck.  
  


A Witcher.  
  


Geralt.

Fuck!

  
  
  



	11. Old wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, hope you're all doing well considering what's been happening latly. I hope this ends soon and that you're all safe, but in the meantime here is another chapter. Where Jaskier meets an old face.

Orange bathed the cold grey stones, winter certainly hooked its claws in here. Jaskier shivered miserably as he walked the halls alone with nothing but his own thoughts. Which just so happened to be the same litany of ‘fuck’ and ‘Geralt’ over and over. And not the sexy kind.  
No. Nothing sexy about finding out that the person you had thought was your best friend only to discover he hated you so much that he wished for you to be taken off his hands, was the same person you were being asked to bring for the person who was actually your best friend to be able to find out who’s trying to kill her.   
His life was so weird sometimes.   
Weird and fucked..   
  


Jaskier sighed when he came to a stop outside Ven’s door, tension trickled from his shoulders just thinking of her waiting for him so they could talk. He could almost feel her night shirt tickle his forehead as his head rested in her lap while her fingers combed out knots from his hair and listened while he talked. Something that had happened on the farm many times before and something he never knew he wanted. She would help him forget for a while and then she would help him solve his problem. That’s just how she was, despite how other people may feel about him. Geralt.  
She seemed to enjoy his company and the talks they had. She had never had anyone other than her mother for company and Arlin hadn’t been social, so she would often ask about human customs or for him to recount tales he had heard on his travels. 

That peace he could feel the closer he came to the room vanished as soon as he swung the door open.   
Ven was gone.

Instantly he was back in the hall, night crept closer from the shadows as he also crept about the hall’s trying to find his companion. Why he thought she would stay put escaped him. What if she was in trouble though?  
Even if the castles and courts were safe enough for people like himself, she was at risk. She’d never been around people much anyway and these people were not your average villagers you could scare with magic. They’d no doubt have sorcerers of their own.

Jaskier’s feet picked up with his heart. A steadily rising beat that saw no end until he could find Ven. Air seemed harder to find for some reason, the air colder than it should be even in such a drafty castle. 

“We could help each other.”

Jaskier slowed when he heard the frustrated exclamation. Whoever Ven was talking to must have really gotten on her nerves, but he didn’t care about that. He smiled as he followed her voice to a bustling kitchen, even at this hour freshly baked bread cocooned the workers in a homey layer of nostalgia. Fires, stoked by the eager sons of staff, flickered warmth over the bread makers trying their best to ignore the argument taking place behind them.   
Ven stood holding two bowls of, what seemed like soup, above her head to save them from the young children that ran back and forth, either playing or helping with the daily kitchen bustle that supper usually caused. Soft light brought out the shadows under her eyes and had seemed to semi-dry her hair, leaving it in a fluffy cloud around her ears. Jaskier smiled. Katya had evidently sent for better made clothes for them, having been the daughter of a seamster he could believe that she had gotten all their measurements correct for whoever had the talent he saw. Navy doublet, left open so he could see the pale blue chemise below in all it’s lacy glory, paired perfectly with her dark hair and left him breathless. She looked like a Queen.   
She shifted and Jaskier was delighted to find stitched, finely into the fabric in delicate needle work as if a spider had worked the pattern, was small vines and leaves with the occasional flower.

Jaskier was going to write a lovely song about Katya and whoever had the gift to make Ven look even more magnificent than she had the day they met.

A laugh so condescending it was familiar broke him from his thoughts and tore him from the momentary respite from thoughts of the Witcher.

“My dear, what could you possibly offer me?” Black hair was brushed over and outfit of white and black. Purple eyes held mirth directed at Ven, playful but searching.  
Fuck, Yennefer.   
Fuck Yennefer!   
“NO!”

All eyes flew to Jaskier at his outburst.  
But he had enough problems without Yennefer wadding in with her lilacs and gooseberries.   
The staff hesitated before going back to their duties, though he could see them side eyeing him and the sorceress while herding the children out from the kitchen.   
Mirth died in Yennefer’s eyes when they landed on him, her face as blank and cold as freshly fallen snow.   
“You.” She said with seemingly no emotion, then looking back to Ven, “We have no business with each other, kindly leave.” Yennefer hurried past Jaskier even as Ven opened and closed her mouth. He watched as Yennefer disappeared before turning to Ven.

“What was that?” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, yet he must have from the way Ven shrank back with a careful, thoughtful look. “Ven, do you know who that is?” He asked softer this time. Jaskier sighed when he was met with a blank look, she didn’t know.  
Taking a breath he beckoned her outside the kitchen where nosy staff couldn’t spread gossip back to Katya and Kamila, no doubt to use against him.   
Oh.   
Oh!   
This was another play. They knew about his feud with the sorceress, he had drunkenly bemoaned her when he had been there last, to the delight of Katya. Now he knew why she had been so happy that day and pressed him for details. If Jaskier couldn’t get her the Witcher she wanted then Yennefer would.

Outside in the hall they slowly wandered back towards their room. Ven walked shoulder to shoulder with him, but there was suddenly a distance between them that hadn’t been there moments ago. Guilt clawed at his chest at the stony look she gave him as she passed over his soup, cold as he himself felt now.   
“Never talk to me like that again.”   
“I’m sorry. I just-” 

“No.” Ven interrupted, “It’s not an apology if you make excuses. You shouldn’t have talked to me like that.”  
Jaskier gulped. She was right of course, he should have known better. After the mountain. The first mountain.   
  


“You’re right.” He stopped. Ven followed him, still with that stony face that refused him entry to her thoughts like he would normally see. She had never looked at him like that. Never protected herself against him before in a way he had seen her mother do almost all the time. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that, it wasn’t your fault. You had no idea and I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you unjustly.”   
Ven’s shoulders relaxed and her face softened. She nodded and they fell into silence where Ven started walking again.   
  


Jaskier watched her helplessly, waiting. But she didn’t owe him anything and certainly didn’t have to accept his apology. He understood, by the gods did he.

Finally, at their room she let him in first. Shrugged out of her doublet and sat on the bed, stirring the soup thoughtfully. Now that she sat before him he could see she had been walking around barefoot, like the savage she was.  
He watched, he waited.   
“Stop with the puppy eyes.” A shy, uncertain smile was sent his way. Tension bled from his muscles. “I forgive you. But don’t make it a habit.” She pointed the spoon threateningly at him and let out a nervous laugh as Jaskier joined her on the bed. Peace settled over him once she leaned into his side and munched loudly on a carrot.   
“Who was that then?”   
Jaskier frowned, “Yennefer.”   
“Shit.”   
“Yeah.”

Ven drained the last of her soup with a slurp so loud Jaskier grimaced, staring at his own still mostly full bowl his appetite waned. Reaching over he placed the bowl on a nearby dresser and settled beside Ven, her arm settled over his shoulders to lightly stroke at his hair. It seemed more so to calm herself than him, but appreciated it non the less. The motions soothed him enough that his mind quited, his body relaxed and his mind drifted.   
Sleepily he asked, “What were you talking about?” He felt a shift and a cover thrown over him, but felt far too relaxed to open his eyes. Wow when did they close? He was far more drained than he thought.   
Ven hummed, the vibration going through his mind in a soothing buzz. “Kids are going missing. We were both investigating.” He felt her shrug, “Obviously she doesn’t want help.”   
“W’Sit?” He mumbled as sleep welcomed him. He fought to hear what She had to say.   
Ven chuckled, “I think it’s a Bobok. A disobedient child that died, a witch usually controls them, reckon they make the poor things too.”   
Jaskier hummed and Ven stroked a strand of hair that tickled his nose, “We’ll talk in the morning.” She whispered and as if he had been waiting for that he was asleep.


	12. friends in the dark

Moonlight spilled over Jaskier, like the drawing in her fairytale book of princesses, all soft and pale from the moon. The slow rise and fall of his chest chased away some of the worry that clawed at her mind, demanding attention. Yet she couldn’t allow herself to fall prey to it’s cold clutches, not while they were in danger.   
Jaskier snuffled and burrowed further into the fur blanket she had pilfered from another room before he got there. A smile tugged at her lips, easy and free in the same way Jaskier made her feel. Made her feel happy.   
Made her feel accepted.   
Made her feel safe.

Even with all that had happened, he still gave her that comforting feeling even with the threat of death from an unknown queen over her head. Even with the dead of….   
Ven couldn’t think it. Couldn't think of her name without the soul searing pain her memory now sent through her. Ven couldn’t afford to mourn now. Not yet.

Jaskier muttered something in his sleep. Ven wished she could follow him, but she couldn’t. With a sigh she gently and quietly left the bed, Jaskier’s blade poked out from underneath the bed and with a fond roll of her eyes she tucked it safely away, ready to use should he need too but not obvious to attackers. It was a necessary thing that Ven had been forced to adopt when their farm kept being vandalised. At one point a drunkard had tried to break in and take out the ‘witches’ that lived there.   
She shivered. That incident had scared her, being only just in her teens and unable to control fire yet, it had driven home just how unsafe her kind were.

With a sigh she slipped from the room, being sure to fit her swords to her hips. 

Ven wandered and tried to remember the twists and turns of the castle, just in case. It wasn’t long until she found herself in the servants quarters. It was darker here, but she found it far more interesting than the rest of the castle, here there were far more hidden passages. Most were used for staff to go about the castle unseen, but there were many that seemed to lead deeper under the castle.    
Ven left those.   
For now.

Cold stone did nothing to conceal another set of footsteps. Now alert Ven stopped, listening as the footsteps grew nearer and nearer. Was it the person who had been following them since her village? Or perhaps it was an assassin from this Queen Mab? Whoever it was and whatever their intention, she would not be caught by surprise nor would she give them the chance to kill her.   
Ven drew a blade and pointed it at the owner of the footsteps.

“I’m about to collect herbs, m’lady. I didn’t mean to disturb you, my apologies.” Squeaked a petite girl of maybe eighteen. Everything about her was delicate, like a flower that had been denied sun. So pale was her face that her dark brown hair seemed even darker against her skin, even in the weak light her candle gave, sending shadows dancing under her eyes. Or perhaps that was just her eyes, dark and sad. There was no light friendly brown in them, only dark desolation that swirled in edies of gold flecks amongst dark brown. She held a basket, but in the dim lighting Ven couldn’t make out what the shapes could be.   
“That’s ok, you didn’t disturb me. Was just exploring.” Shame coloured Ven’s every word as she quickly returned her sword and tried to shrink into the shadows. Ven wasn’t all that good with people and wanted this already awful conversation over with as soon as possible. She hadn’t the skill Jaskier had of weaving words around people, for people. People didn’t come with instructions on how to make them like her and she knew that sometimes she could be too blunt, too insensitive. Her genuine sympathies coming off as forced and insincere when nerves attacked her and made her believe these people would find her lacking. Would find her stupid.

But she had scared this girl out of her wits, the least she owed her was a conversation. And besides, the mention of herbs intrigued her, perhaps there were other species around the area she could for salves and food.

  
“What are the herbs for if you don’t mind me asking.”   
“Ah.” The girl said, eyes swirling again with pain. “They’re for my sister. She’s sick you see.” The girl’s hand tightened around the candle as she pulled it towards herself, for warmth against the chilly night or another nervous tick, Ven wasn’t sure. But The girl continued, “No cure. All I can do is ease her pain as much as I can. Destiny really can be cruel sometimes.”

Ven couldn’t agree with the bitter sentiments. Sometimes destiny brought you what you never knew you needed. She liked to believe that Jaskier was one of those times, and she wouldn’t give their meeting up for anything.   
“What has destiny got to do with it?”   
The girl gave a laugh with no humour to it, “Destiny has decreed that my sister die for her lover to find a cure for what ales her.” Her eyes drifted past Ven and took on a glazed look, as if she were looking into the future. Or at least one she wanted.   
“If someone could break a link destiny has made, then that person could use the remaining power to….” She blinked and smiled shyly. Ven had no clue what she was talking about. As far as Ven was aware you couldn’t break destinies links, once linked forever linked. No one held enough power to do what she was suggesting.

“I’m sorry, but I need to grind these up and it takes a while. It was nice meeting you?”   
“Ven.”    
She nodded. “Nice to meet you Ven, I’m Magdalena.” She ducked her head and tried to slink back into the shadows, presumably on her way to her quarters. But Ven had scared this poor girl and taken time away from tending to her sister. The least she could do was help her.   
“I’m sure it’ll be quicker with two people, if you would like the help.”    
Magdalena gave a relieved smile, “I would be glad for the company.”

Magdalena’s sister lay in a small cot in the small one room the sisters shared.   
The sister seemed to be in her forties, and wore each year on her tired sickly face. Though Ven had to wonder if it was just the immense pain she was in that had aged her and pressed dark bruises under her eyes. She had dark hair, just like her sister, cut to her shoulders in what Ven supposed was an easier length when tossing and turning in pain. Unlike her sister her hazel eyes held the warmth of someone who was trying not to show how badly the illness was affecting her. She smiled easily at Ven when she followed Magdalena through the door.

“This is a new face.”    
Magdalena blew out her candle and placed the herbs on a small wooden desk full of vials and already crushed herbs. Some liquids Ven didn’t know the name of sat in a wicker basket, each vial separated and held in the small squares perfect storing the obvious medicines.    
“This is Ven. I met her out in the halls.” Magdalena gestured to Ven who nodded her head, not knowing where to stand. “Ven, this is my sister Jannalee.”   
Jannalee bowed her head, the action aborted when a pained grimace took over her friendly smile.

Magdalena clinked vials together in her rush, but found the almost empty vial she was looking for and helped Jannalee to drink what was left.    
“Thank you.” Jannalee murmured and patted her little sisters face and yawned.   
“Sleep, we’ll make more of the medicine. Hopefully this one will work better.”   
Jannalee noded sleepily and it wasn’t long until she was asleep.   
Magdalena carefully tucked her in and placed a kiss against Jannalee’s head. Ven caught the glittering trail of a tear track down her sallow cheek before she wiped it away and faced Ven.

They’d been crushing herbs for half an hour when Ven attempted conversation.   
“You seem close.” She commented as Magdalena began mixing some of the herbs and vials together, diligently measuring them out with an intensity Ven had never seen before.   
“Had to be. Our parents died when I was still a baby, she’s raised me and been there for me through everything.” she sounded far too sad for someone her age. Worrying about her sisters coming death when girls her age should be giggling about boys, or something. Honestly Ven had never had an interest in that, but from what she had seen from the girls in her village that’s what they did. “I can’t lose her. I don’t know what I’d do if she died.” She sounded as young as she was, for the first time since Ven had started talking to her. Just a scared kid. “Fuck destiny.” Magdalena slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide at her own outburst.“Sorry.”

Ven shook her head. She could feel however she wanted.

“I heard you were looking around for information about the kids.” Magdalena kept her eyes on the herbs she had been grinding with her pestle and mortar. Thin arms possessing more strength than Ven assumed she had.   
“Yeah. You don’t happen to know of any recent deaths, probably a child?”   
“Well, I mean there was Jarek.” Magdalena said, “His little girl died not long ago.” She sighed, “Poor man, lost his wife soon after too.”   
This might be the lead Ven had been searching for. Everyone else in the kitchens had been too wary of her to answer outright, too afraid that she may be the one taking the children despite only just getting to the castle.   
“Do you know where to find this Jarek?”   
“He’s usually in the stables, he’s the stable master.”

When they finished Magdalena thanked her for her help and Ven in turn thanked her for the information. As Ven slipped back through the halls, she mentally reminded herself to check in on the two before she and Jaskier left. There wasn’t much she could do for them, but she knew how much it helped knowing someone cared about how you are.   
With that she slipped back into bed. Jaskier mumbled her name and sought out her heat like a leech. Ven smiled and tried to get some sleep.

It didn’t last.   
She could feel the letter hidden against her heart, like lead it pressed down until she couldn’t breath from the emotion she had tried running from. It beat at her cage and scratched at the bars. It would not be ignored.


	13. A fathers love: not by blood

Cold.   
The first thought he had was cold. He had been warm, but not now.   
Bad. That was bad.   
Jaskier wriggled his arm under the softness of a thick blanket, yet the true warmth he had been seeking was still nowhere to be found.    
Cracking an eye open, Jaskier blearily searched for …    
The warm thing, his mind supplied sleepily. Still muddled from a rest that came from emotional exhaustion he pulled himself to the edge of the bed and found the wrinkled chemise pressed to his cheek. A hand idly reached back and pet his hair, snagging on a few knots but managing to untangle the half of his hair he hadn’t smushed in Ven’s back.   
“Go back to sleep, we have a while.”   
Jaskier groaned at her and dragged himself into a semi sitting position, slumped into her shoulder. 

Now closer and a lot more awake he could make out a letter with the seal of Arlin’s letter.    
Ven pulled her pack towards her with her foot and squirrel it away in a pocket.   
“You should go back to sleep.” She said again, but he was too awak now, could see the tears in her eyes that she tried to wipe away.   
She hadn’t read the letter.   
He wasn’t sure when she would.

“Why don’t you read it?”    
Ven shrugged, jostling Jaskier’s head where it rested. “I guess…” She paused, collecting herself with a breath. Jaskier took her hand as she had that day, comforting in a way he had no words for. Ven leant her head against his, “I guess it would seem real then.”   
She turned more into him and he finally found the warmth he had been seeking moments ago. “It’s her goodbye. If I read it then… it’s like, it’s like she’s truly dead.” she laughed and tried to pull away, but no matter how far she got Jaskier refused to let go of her hand. She needed him and he wasn’t about to let her deprive herself from his comfort because she felt her fear stupid.

“I get it.” He said and Ven stopped her mission of moving away. Her eyes met his and a sob, that she caught with her hand, fought its way free even if she shed no tears. “If she never gets to say her last goodbye, then you can make her live forever.”   
Ven nodded, “I’m just… I’m keeping it at bay, not thinking about it.” Denial. That’s what it was. A denial that had been keeping her from truly feeling the impact, that kept her going, but would ultimately crush her still fragile heart.

Jaskier let her go. Let her decide how she wanted to confront this, he just needed her to know he understood and that he was there if she needed him.   
Ven pulled away and pulled the doublet on from yesterday. Not today, it said. Not now, the distance informed. Maybe someday, her watery smile whispered.

Jaskier nodded.

“So you said something about a bebo?”   
Ven cleared her throat, “Bebok.” She corrected with a small laugh. Her eyes less wet looking and her chemise still crumpled under her doublet, she tossed him a bundle of clothes.

Fine silk caressed his hands and his heart cried out. At last! At last he could feel the sweet song of the scarlet doublet stitched finely with gold thread that created small roses as if someone had painted it on with a tiny brush. A cream lace chemise lay with it to go on underneath and fitted red trousers. Jaskier could sing.

“ Katarzynka said you’d like them.”   
Jaskier inclined his head, noting to find out who Katya’s tailors and seamstress were. He may have to commission them.

Once dressed they had gone in search of clues. Talking to the kitchen staff only brought up old stories of witches from years back, nothing recent. Ven had been more interested in who the Bebok could have been.   
“They had been a child.” Ven explained, “No matter what they are now, they deserve a name and perhaps a proper burial.”    
She told him of her encounter with a woman that night and the information she had shared. It seemed Ven had found them the only real solid lead they could scrounge up that day, so they headed off in search of this Jarek. And Jaskier hoped he wouldn’t need to find the white wolf to deal with this.

* * *

Jarek had been the stable master for over twenty-five years and had been widowed last spring, if the girl were to be believed, and had lost his daughter just before his wife passed. 

“How can I help you?” Jarek asked in a friendly enough tone as he patted down a chestnut stallion. Dull teeth nipped at his collar and Jaskier found that Nettle had been housed right next to them.    
“Hey girl.” Ven said as she fished out a hidden apple from seemingly nowhere and gave it to the mare who seemed to not be in the best of moods, if Jaskier judged the way she gave a warning nip to the stallion when it’s head came too close.

“We’ve come to ask about your daughter.” Ven stumbled. Jarek straightened and as he emptied more feed for the horse his shoulders seemed far too stiff.    
“What about her?”   
  


Jaskier stepped in, “Just that we’re sorry to hear what happened. And your wife too.”   
He seemed to relax, but his expression was still guarded.   
“I thank ya for the kindness.” Jarek muttered, eyes dark at whatever memory had resurfaced, “but I still don’t know what ya could be askin about my girl.”   
Jaskier looked at Ven who seemed almost relieved when Jaskier took the lead and now nodded for him to continue. But he didn’t know enough about the bebok to ask the things needed.   
“My friend here would just like to ask some questions.” Ven’s eyes widened at Jaskier before a half hearted glare was sent his way. A glare born more from fear than actual anger.

  
“Well, um.” She swallowed and her posture loosened to something far more relaxed and bouncy, even the smile on her face seemed lighter than the normal look she adopted while around other people. That look being one of intense pain and a hint of fear. It took Jaskier far longer than he would ever admit before he realised she was trying to emulate him and the way in which he tried to seem more relaxed than he actually felt.   
  


“Well, we just wanted to ask if her grave has seemed...disturbed at all?”   
  


Everything happened at once. Jarek went from relaxed but guarded to fighting angry. His face turned an interesting shade of red, “You look here,” he waved a large fist in Ven’s direction, Jaskier found himself in front of her before the thought occurred to him, hoof pick in hand and ready to fight. He had dimly been aware that all their training together had sharpened his reflexes, yet it hadn’t sunk in just how much until he had found himself right there, almost without thought.   
  


Ven blinked in shock and Jarek startled but continued his rant, “You an that witch, askin about my family. Askin where she’s buried. Then when I tell er Alina was buried in the graveyard, only ta find it destroyed.” He quieted. 

Winter sunlight lit up the stalls in a rare flash of warmth in such cold times, as Jarek took in a shuddering breath and crumpled in on himself as grief took a hold of his body. Jaskier felt a stab of sympathy for the man, Jarek obviously had been barely keeping himself together.   
“They took her.”    
Jaskier shared another look with Ven, who seemed to be struggling with her new facade. There was a look of concern there that told him all he needed to know. Alina was definitely the bebok.   
“I’m sorry.” Ven said, remorse in every word. Gently she patted Jaskier’s arm and he moved out of her way. He watched silently as she awkwardly patted Jarek’s shoulder. “We’re trying to find the person who’s doing this and taking the children.” 

Jarek straightened, a strength shon through his eyes as he focused himself on Ven.   
“If there is anythin I can do ta bring this villan ta justice, just ask.”   
“If I can use your blood to track Alina then we can-” Ven cut herself off at whatever she saw on Jarek’s face, “What’s wrong?”   
“Alina was ma daughter, but not by blood. My dear wife was not my love, but my best friend.” he smiled, “She was with child and the father left, so I married her an told everyone Alina was mine.” Jarek wilted again, “Im sorry, I wanted ta help but I cant do tha.”

Jaskier shook his head, “No need for apologies. You did a wonderful thing and we will try our best to find whoever is doing this.”   
Jarek clasped Jaskier’s shoulder, “Thank ya. Both of ya and sorry for the little...” He trailed off but Ven waved a hand.   
“Nothing to forgive.” She said and Jaskier couldn’t but marvel at her. 

They took their leave. Traipsing through the castle until a small girl with dark eyes bumped into him in her hurry.   
“My apologies.” She squeaked. Then they locked eyes, her expression turned blank..   
Her eyes bore into him as if they were searching out his soul, with such sadness but determination. All at once her face animated again as Ven gave her a smile.   
“Magdalena. It’s nice to see you again.”   
Magdalena tor her gaze from Jaskier, but he could still feel the raw energy that had seemed to poke at him. This girl was not normal.   
Instantly he felt guilty for the thought. After all, Ven could be considered not normal and it was wrong of him not to give this girl the same chance he gave everyone. But there was something about her that caused him to shiver. Which told him there was more than just a small girl trying to find her way through the castle.

“Lady Ven.” the girl said. Jaskier could tell from just the way Magdalena smiled at her that she was on friendly terms with his Ven.   
Ven fidgeted at the title, and Magdalena carried on. “I’m sorry, but I have no time to talk. Good day Lady Ven, Master Jaskier.” She nodded to each of them, but her gaze lingered on Jaskier before she went to leave.   
“Wait.” Ven called and Magdalena stopped. “Is there any child you know of that has complained of visitors at night? Monsters under their bed perhaps?”   
Magdalena seemed to think, her dark eyes flickered back and forth between Jaskier and Ven, before they landed just on Jaskier.   
“The cook's son. He’s been sick this last month and complained of things in his room, they thought them just his sickened minds imagination.” Magdalena hastily looked towards her exit, “I bid you good luck, but i must go.” She gave a short wave before darting away. Ven only just managed to get out a short thank you.

  
“What a strange girl.” Jaskier said, “Ow, what was that for?” Ven rolled her eyes as he cradled the arm she just smacked.    
“Be nice, her sister’s sick. She has a lot on her mind.”   
Jaskier pouted, but relented. They had their own problems at the moment.


End file.
